#{ please let me know if you need me to change anything }

[cheolism]

OH, AGONY

✰ — teaching assistant & boyfriend!lee jihoon x f!reader ✷ — summary: when you both find out that your boyfriend, lee jihoon, will be the ta for your classic literature class, it is agreed your relationship will take a temporary pause . no public dates, no pda; and, most tragically, no sex. nothing that can give away the truth to your relationship. only, it really is easier said than done. or: four times you and jihoon totally didn't have sex plus one time you did. ✰ — wc is approx. 14.5k ✷ — genre: TA au, secret relationship au, forbidden relationship au, smut ✰ — warnings: spanking, pussy spanking. derogatory language (f receiving), pet names (baby (f receiving), hoonie). rough sex, unprotected sex. masturbation (f&m) and sex toys. penetrative sex. extreme levels of delusion as to what "qualifies" as sex or not; jihoon and reader bully one another. talk pertaining to the greek tragedy oedipus rex (self-blinding is mentioned as it pertains to oedpius but not discussed in detail). ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: this fic represents two delusional adults. they are both consenting to what is going on. this fic is not an accurate representation of what is and not considered sex. also the word count may be scary, but i promise it is pretty much all smut. this fic is part of @camandemstudios first ever collab, back to school with seventeen. please make sure to give the other works lots of love!

“we have to set up rules,” jihoon announced a week before classes were to start. he closed the zoom tab, which he had preciously been using to talk to the classics professor he was ta-ing for this semester, kicking back from his desk. 

“rules,” you said, peeking over the top of your book. it was hotter than hell outside, the sort of heat that suffocated and made you feel as if you were being wrung like a wet towel. inside, however, you had a blanket tucked around your body and socks pulled up to your calves. 

jihoon wandered over to the thermostat. he frowned, reaching and dialing it down once again. if he was going to pay for air conditioning, he believed, he was going to be cold in the comfort of his own apartment. 

“it’s not fair to other students that you’re dating your ta,” he said. 

“if this is literally you breaking up with me –”

“don’t be dramatic,” jihoon chided, crossing the room to you. he picked up the edge of the blanket, slipping under and pressing his toes against your feet. “i didn’t say that. i just mean that we shouldn’t advertise our relationship to everyone.”

you closed your book, keeping your forefinger inside to mark your place. “just keep it a secret then. can’t be hard.”

“we can’t let anyone know,” he enunciated. “for real. the professor doesn’t even know. if he did, he’d reassign me.”

“then we just don���t say anything.”

“you shouldn’t stay the night.” jihoon laid his arm over the back of the couch, inviting you to cuddle into his side without him verbally giving invitation. you abided, shifting to rest your head on his thick bicep. “and no dates.”

you huffed. “jihoon, i don’t know if it’s really that serious.”

he scoffed back at you. black bangs hid his eyes. “they could accuse me of favoritism, accuse you of academic dishonesty. we need to treat this seriously.”

“maybe i should just request to change to a different section.”

“too much work.”

“oh,” you laughed, reaching over and pinching at his side. jihoon flinched, instinctively slapping at your hand. “and pretending we aren’t dating isn’t.”

“that’s why we need rules.” you kicked out the blanket, pulling it from jihoon; he grumbled, snatching it back. “don’t be a hog. anyways. we need rules so we can stick to a strict routine. that way we don’t lapse in judgment or anything.”

“so no sleepovers,” you recited, “no dates. what else? no walking to class? no kissing?”

jihoon leaned his head back against the couch, exposing the length of his pale neck. you let your eyes linger. “sleepovers, dates. no meeting in public unless in a group setting.” 

you let out a great sigh, pushing the blanket from you. snatching your bookmark, you stuffed it into the novel you had been reading. “so we’re strangers.”

“yes,” jihoon confirmed. “easy enough.”

you gasped, mouth dropping open. “easy!”

jihoon bit at his lip, and you could tell that he was already regretting his choice of words. but he wouldn’t back down – that wasn’t in his nature. “easy,” he said. 

“fine,” you hissed. you left the couch, retrieving your backpack. you brought out your notepad and pen pouch. “no sex, either.”

“what –”

“if it’s so easy,” you retorted sharply, walking back to the couch while ripping out an empty page of your notebook, “then no sex won’t be a problem for you, mr. lee. i mean – it needs to be believable, right? no getting caught.”

jihoon grimaced, moving to a sitting position on the couch. “yeah. believable.”

“we write it down,” you said, taking back your spot next to jihoon. you opened your pen pouch, letting the pens and markers spill out onto the coffee table. “we write it down and shake on it. it’s a contract.”

jihoon hesitated. “this is a little severe, don’t you think?”

you shook your head. “nope. can’t let anyone know, yeah? otherwise i’d be academically dishonest, wouldn’t i?”

jihoon grabbed your paper, creating a bullet point. “i really don’t think this is necessary.”

“but you do,” you shot back. “i mean. you were the one to bring it up all serious-like. no kissing, no sleepovers, no sex. the whole five yards, lee jihoon.”

“but a contract –”

“oh? so you’re wrong?”

jihoon huffed, pressing his lips into a firm line. “fine. no dates, no marks, no pda.”

“and no sex.”

“and no sex.”

W E E K  O N E

your eyes immediately catch onto jihoon as soon as you walk into the classroom, and while you really should’ve guessed that he was going to play dirty – because as hard as he tries to maintain an indifferent air, jihoon is just as weak of a many as any – you didn’t realize he would be playing this dirty. 

he’s wearing black trousers that fit to his thighs and ass, cinched tightly at his waist by a thin leather belt. his white dress shirt is loose around his neck, the first button undone. your eyes, unwillingly, smooth over the silver chain that winks out from underneath his shirt, alongside the harsh lines of the white tank-top he wears underneath the dress shirt and you feel, horribly, a strike of want hitting you. 

jihoon turns to you. “hello,” he says, voice perfectly neutral. his eyes don’t stray from your face despite the fact you’ve worn his favorite jeans, the ones that cling at your own ass and show off flashes of skin underneath rips strategically placed; rips jihoon has made worse over the months of being together, slipping his fingers underneath the loose threads to touch your skin. 

“go ahead and take a seat,” jihoon instructs, gesturing about the room. the desks are all modern despite the discussion taking place in the historic – well – history buildings. the desk shifts underneath you as you try to slide in, bottom of your water bottle clanging against the hard surface, and wheels carting across the marble floor. 

you stretch out your legs, staring at jihoon unabashedly. it isn’t a sin for you, the student, to be attracted to the teaching assistant. and so you look him over, watching as he turns this way and that way, trousers showing off the plush of his ass and shirt showing the wide line of his shoulders. 

you are jerked from your admiration of your boyfriend-turned-teaching assistant by a large man hurrying to the desk next to you. he’s jihoon’s opposite in almost every way: he’s easily a foot taller, and his skin is a gorgeous dark bronze that seems to draw emphasize to the bulge of his muscles. 

the man slides into the desk. it’s comically small for him, his knees hitting the underside of the desk. the desk moves as he situates himself, prompting his backpack to fall over from where he had propped it. 

“shit,” he mumbles, reaching down with one long arm, biceps bulging rather nicely, to righten the backpack. “stay up, please.”

rather endearingly, to top it all off, he has a lisp. 

he glances at you, eyes apologetic beneath his curly bangs. “sorry. not my day today.”

you huff a laugh. “i don’t know if it’s anyone’s day, let alone week.”

“true,” the man says, grinning. his teeth are white, his canines more pronounced than most people’s. “hey. i’m mingyu.”

you introduce yourself. “are you a classics major, then?”

mingyu wrinkles his nose. “no offense to classics, but i’m doing something interesting.”

“yeah?”

“business.”

you let out a loud laugh, startling not only yourself but the people around you. mingyu grins triumphantly, tongue flicking out to run alongside his teeth. you hide your smile behind your hand, trying to quiet your laughter. jihoon, you notice, is frowning at the two of you. 

“so interesting!” you say. “definitely a major filled with the best.”

“the very best,” mingyu agrees. 

the two of you continue chatting, conversation flowing naturally. he’s charming, you think, charisma practically radiating off of him.  you don’t miss how your boyfriend watches the two of you more often than not, not engaging in conversation with any of the entering students who greet him so he could keep an ear open on your conversation. 

jihoon starts class as soon as the electronic clock on the classroom computer switches to three on the dot, the projection cast onto the board. 

“first thing’s first,” he says. he leans a hand against the table set at the front of the room, though it, too, is on wheels and skirts a little as he puts weight against it. “my syllabus, you’ll find, is stricter than professor burns’s. if you come in after the clock hits three, you’re tardy; you’ll contribute to all discussions in this class, and if you don’t you’ll forgo any participation points; if you miss three classes in a row, which translates to nearly a month of absences, your grade will automatically fall to a fail and you will have to take not only this discussion over, but professor’s burns’s lecture as well. 

“if,” jihoon continues to say, voice a rasp, “you find any of this in contradiction with professor burns’s syllabus, you are more than welcome to email the both of us and address it.”

the class is silent as jihoon grabs a piece of white chalk. naturally, despite the gleaming projectors and furniture on wheels in the building, nearly every classroom is a remnant of the late 19th century: chalkboards; coat hooks; door and window frames made of real wood. 

“remember to use proper emailing etiquette when contacting anyone in the college,” jihoon announces. he begins to write on the board, chalk tapping against the black surface as he decorates it with his chicken scratch. “and to address me as mr. lee. there is a pdf uploaded to our discussion course detailing how to address certain faculty members within the college for you to browse and keep.”

jihoon steps back from the blackboard. there he’s written the title of the course, ancient grecian dramas. 

he runs a hand through his black hair, pushing back strands. “we’ll begin properly next week, once professor burns assigns the first drama for reading. i recommend printing out the reading and annotating, practicing close reading. that way when you come to discussion we can go over your notes as a group and analyze the text further.

“now. we’ll begin today by doing a writing exercise. i want you to tell me what you think of when you think of ancient greek dramas. this will also be how i take attendance – so make sure to do it.”

you rifle through your bag, pulling out your notebook. next is your pen pouch, though the surface area of the desk is hardly large enough to fit your notebook. pouch, and water bottle. 

“you can email it,” jihoon clarifies after a moment of silence. “make sure you label it accordingly.”

hurriedly you pull out your laptop, pushing your pen pouch aside and setting it on top of your notebook. you shift in your seat as your laptop boots back up, and you can’t help but glance up at your teacher’s assistant.

jihoon, being a classics major and your boyfriend, has introduced you to ancient greek plays before. it’s not like you’re completely foreign to the subject; he’s dragged you to more than one play in order to get some assignment credit, notebook on his thigh as he jotted down notes in the dark of the theater. 

sometimes he takes to reading to you different passages – especially those that move him or he thinks are particularly ridiculous. he pours over the text religiously, like a priest would the gospel; analyzing every line, drawing meaning from the colors of robes to what isn’t being said at all. he looks at these little black words on white pages, words written thousands of years ago, and is simply transported into another lifetime. 

it’s endearing; it’s special. 

the first time you had noticed him, jihoon had been surrounded by pages of a poem. later you’d learn it was by some jeffrey guy from the medieval period and was about a group traveling for worship. whatever it was, didn’t matter. 

what had mattered was him. 

he was disheveled. the white printed-out pages of the poem were scattered along the table in the university library, the uniform black-and-white pages interrupted by annotations written in colors of the rainbow. the highlighters and pens were scattered themselves, abandoned by post-it notes stuck to every page. 

he had three empty energy drinks in front of him. the hood of his hoodie was pulled up over his hair, the black fabric matching the dark circles under his eyes that told you he had been at this for far too long. 

you had gone and got him a water; brought it back to him. listened to his theories about color, about how he thought it meant something; how this poet had chosen every word so carefully there’s no way that color didn’t mean something. 

you, a distinctly not literary fanatic, had not understood; you still don’t. 

but his eyes always light up and his voice begins to carry this urgency that betrays his adoration for the art, and you just can’t help but let yourself get caught in his orbit. 

so you open up an email and begin to write.

Mr. Lee, 

My boyfriend is a Classics Major, so when I think of Ancient Greek Dramas I think of him. He’s shown me quite a few, and we’ve attended more than a handful plays

you shift in your seat, thinking. as you move, however, your arm knocks against your pen pouch and sends it to the floor. 

the noise as it hits the floor isn’t as thunderous as it would have been if your water bottle had struck it, but it’s still loud enough for you to wince. it breaks the still of the room, your classmates shifting in their seats and throwing glances at you. 

before you could move from your seat, mingyu is. he’s quick to grab your pouch, smiling gently at you as he offers it. his hands are so big they span the length of the pouch, a beautiful golden tan that only seems to boost his natural beauty. 

“think you dropped this,” he says in a harsh whisper. 

you bite back a laugh, teeth digging into your lower lip as you smile. grabbing the pouch from mingyu, you whisper back a quick thanks. 

you glance up towards the front of the room as you settle back into your seat. jihoon is looking right at you, frowning, arms crossed over his chest. his white shirt isn’t fitted, and it struggles against his bulging biceps as he crosses his arms. 

for a moment you just look at him, taking in your boyfriend’s form; how the shirt clings to his arms, trousers to his thighs. 

there’s a dinging noise of an email landing in an inbox, and then jihoon is moving from the front of the room and around the table to his laptop. 

you return to your email. 

Mr. Lee, 

My boyfriend is a Classics Major, so when I think of Ancient Greek Dramas I think of him. He’s shown me quite a few, and we’ve attended more than a handful plays. A lot of them are different than what I’ve expected. Some of them seem like they came right from Ancient Greece; others are more modern. I have noticed Ancient Greek plays seem to be more twisted than what a modern author may come up with. 

Sometimes I don’t understand really what a play is about. It gets all muddled, especially when they don’t change the words for a modern audience. Still, my boyfriend is super sweet and helps me along. 

you hesitate for a moment, and then you sign your name. opening a new tab, you pull up a bookmark and add one last finishing touch beside your name. 

– °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°

you are more exhausted than usual. 

it’s as if all of the good vibes and rest you had managed to scrape together over the summer break were eradicated in one day. as soon as you managed to get to jihoon’s apartment you were discarding everything; shoes at the door; backpack next to the couch; bra onto the floor. 

his bed was perhaps the most comforting place you knew besides his arms, and so you slunk towards it. you made quick work of your pants, one knee pressing against the mattress as you shook your other leg, jeans flopping to the floor dramatically. 

you followed suit on jihoon’s bed. 

burrowing into his sheets, you couldn’t help but breathe him in. he was a hot sleeper, and so more likely to sweat during the night. his sheets smell like his sweat, though not the stinky sort he gains from his daily workout. instead, it's the natural musk of him that permeates your nose, deep and distinctly lee jihoon. 

you allow yourself to drift. nothing exists besides jihoon’s bed and you. 

then the door to his apartment is opening and closing, a voice with a slight rasp calling out to you. 

“here!” you call back, voice slightly muffled by the sheets. you press your face against them again, eyes fluttering shut. 

jihoon slowly makes his way across the apartment. he mutters something about your discarded clothes and backpack, but you pay it no mind. jihoon pauses when he enters his room, and you can practically feel his eyes on you; roaming the bare expanse of your back, the supple flesh of your thighs. 

“good day?” you kick out a leg, wiggling your toes. 

he makes a humming noise, and then he’s stepping further into the room. 

“long one,” he says. “forgot how fucking awkward everyone is on the first day.”

you shift, moving your face so you could watch him. jihoon crosses to his dresser, fingers messing with the cuffs of his white dress shirt. you can see the moment he gets the button, the fabric sagging around his wrists. 

oh. 

sitting up on the bed, you watch as he begins to work on his other cuff. he peers out the window, chatting as he does. 

“professor burns is the usual,” jihoon announces. “hasn’t changed in the – what? five years i’ve been here? i swear she rambles like no one’s business. if it wasn’t my job to babysit the students and not her, i’d say something – but fuck, you know?”

once he’s undone the buttons on the cuffs of both of his sleeves, jihoon begins to work on the buttons falling down the middle of the shirt. his fingers are deft and quick as he presses them through their holes. 

you can’t help but think of his fingers on you. how nimble and skillful they are against your skin; how he dances them up and down your flesh as he presses kisses against your skin; how they seem to know just where to go and just what to do against your body, rubbing at your nipples and pinching at the undersides of your tits to get reactions from you. 

because fuck, jihoon’s fingers –

sometimes even watching him write you can’t help but get horny. how his fingers grip his pen, how he spins it around his fingers absentmindedly. how they alleviate pressure on the pen as he writes and stops. watching him write, sometimes you can’t help but think about his fingers at your clip, a harsh presence as they rub down on you once moment and gentle the next, fingers skimming your clit as they massage the gummy area around it. 

watching his clever fingers as they make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, you can’t help but yearn. your eyes see nothing but his fingers; ears hear nothing of his conversation. it’s just you and jihoon’s hands and the way your cunt clenches, pussy leaking into your panties. 

then jihoon’s pulling off his dress shirt, and he’s wearing a tank top underneath. 

you want to scream. 

not to say jihoon doesn’t look good in a tank top. because he does. fuck, he does. you always find yourself admiring jihoon’s shoulders and arms when he’s in a tank top no matter what sort of mood you’re in. 

(one instance in particular you had been full of energy, ranting about a coworker who didn’t know what she was doing and had been kept around for far too long. and then you had looked up at jihoon and let your eyes selfishly roam over the broadness of his back, the curves of his bulging arms as he cut up meat. all sense had abandoned you in that moment, and before you knew it you were grabbing at his shirt and pulling him to you, tongue running along his skin.

not exactly your proudest moment, but.)

maybe the combination of his trousers and tank top shouldn’t be as sexy as they are, you think hysterically. his tank top his tucked into his pants, and, torturously, his fingers reach down to pull the hem free. the hem of his tank top settles around his hips, showing off just a sliver of skin. 

jihoon raises a hand, running his fingers through his black hair as he continues to talk about something-or-other. 

and his white tank top rises up his stomach. 

you can see the hairs that lead from his belly button down, down, down. you can see the pale expanse of skin that you know is soft and smooth to the touch. you can imagine your hands pressing against his skin and sliding underneath his trousers; can imagine the restrictiveness of his trousers as you tuck your hands into his underwear, fingertips skimming alongside the base of his cock. 

you’ve never pretended to innocent when it came to lee jihoon; never pretended your mind didn’t run wild with salacious thoughts. 

and you weren’t going to pretend now, because – 

because in your mind your hands were rubbing at the base of his cock, mouth at his collar and licking along his collarbones. he was moaning in you ear, soft and breathy, and you were moving down onto your knees, your own fingers unbuttoning his trousers. 

jihoon reaches down, fingers swiftly pushing off his socks. “hey, by the way, i sent you an email response to your attendance discussion for today.”

you don’t speak, eyes roaming over the expanse of his back, still covered by fabric, like a starving man before a feast. 

jihoon peeks at you. “it was sweet.”

“yeah?” 

he doesn’t say anything else. jihoon’s eyebrows raise, silently prompting you. 

you let out a loud, horrible groan that tears at your throat. the insides of your thighs are warm as you move across the bed to grab your discarded phone, the wet fabric of your panties catching against your skin, cold and shocking. 

jihoon begins to chatter once more as you swipe on the email notification. he’s quiet in public but you can’t help but treasure how talkative he becomes afterwards; how all the little snide comments he’s kept to himself are let loose. 

you look at the email. 

you furrow your brows. you look over it again. 

I am glad to see at least one of the students in our discussion section will not be a complete novice to Greek theater. I hope after this semester you will be able to engage with your boyfriend in a more informed matter when it comes to his passions. 

However, despite how sweet your email was, I do have to remind you to please stick to proper email etiquette. Your use of – °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖° is highly unprofessional, and I urge you to not include such things when emailing any staff or faculty or teaching assistants. For this misconduct, you will be deducted a point from your discussion grade for today. Please keep this in mind for the future. 

Well wishes, 

Mr. Lee

your jaw drops open. 

“you fucking deducted me for my emoticon?!” 

“we agreed to be strangers,” jihoon reminds you. he removes his pants. you can’t even find it within yourself to be horny. the warmth of your cunt is overtaken by the red-hot anger that licks through your veins. “and it’s inappropriate to send your ta heart and sparkle emoticons.”

“it’s a fucking – oh my god,” you reach towards the top of the bed, fingers grabbing the corner of his pillow. you tug it to you. “it’s not that serious.”

jihoon steps out of his pants. his thighs are thick and pale, and when he turns towards his closest you can see how snug his black underwear is against the supple curve of his ass. fleetingly, because you are angry at his audacity, you allow your eyes to follow the curve of his asschecks and how the band of his underwear rests low on his hips. 

“teaching assistants and students aren’t to have any sexual relations,” jihoon recites. “it’s contract. if something happens, your little not-that-serious emoticon is evidence.”

you grab the pillow fully, swinging it around your body and at jihoon. it hits him in the middle. he lets out a soft noise of surprise. “you’re such an ass.”

jihoon shrugs. “we signed a contract, baby.” 

he tucks his thumbs underneath the waistband of his underwear, and then he’s pulling them down his legs. you don’t even have it in you to look away. you marvel at his naked lower half. his cock, thick and flaccid, hanging between his thighs. the dusky color of it; the dark hairs that travel from underneath the hem of his tank top to the base of his cock. 

jihoon pulls on a pair of grey joggers, concealing his cock and thighs from your eyes. “listen. i don’t want to be the bad guy. but we really can’t be risking anything.”

his cock is covered and he’s talking about something entirely different, but you’re still thinking about his dick. you’re still thinking about his dick as he walks from the bedroom, bare feet softly hitting the hardwood floors. 

you trail two of your fingers along your bare thigh. his dick, flaccid and thick in your hands. it feels like it’s been forever since you’ve had your hands or mouth or fucking cunt around his dick; forever since you last pressed your thumb against the slit of his cockhead, since his raspy, gentle groans were being pressed into your skin. 

you skim your nails along the soft insides of your thighs. 

it’s not like you’re sexually depraved. you and jihoon just had sex the other day. but there’s something about this, the situation, being strangers, that makes you feel as if you’re starving. 

your fingers move to your panties. you let your nails delicately linger alongside the lips of your cunt through the fabric, little sparks – little pieces of glitter, almost – making your toes curl. 

fuck lee jihoon, you think, and then you’re sliding your forefinger down between your pussy lips. you don’t move the fabric of your panties. leaning back against his bed, you let your finger drag down and push up, your wetness soaking your panties. 

his bed envelopes you as you lean back. tilting your hips up and bracing your feet against the mattress, you add another finger to the stimulation of your pussy. you let your fingers grow rougher, let them dig in slightly to the sensitive area around your clit. 

your fingers find your hole, stretching the fabric of your panties to reach in. 

“fuck.” 

your eyes flutter open – when did they shut? jihoon is standing at the entrance to his room. his long hair is pushed back from his face by a black headband. in one hand he holds a metal water bottle. 

his eyes are wide, his sweet lips parted as he stares at that spot between your thighs. 

jihoon shuffles further into the room, placing his water bottle on top of his set of drawers. you’ve begun absentmindedly petting your pussy, once again dragging your fingers over your clit lazily. 

jihoon presses his knees against the foot of his mattress. 

you hum, twisting your wrist. you press your thumb against the side of your clit, your fingers dipping once more to your hole. this morning you had chosen to wear a pair of pink panties. you don’t regret it now. you’re so soaking wet that you know jihoon can see the shape of your cunt through the fabric. 

your fingers begin to contract. you massage your pussy through the fabric leisurely, rhythmically. you drag your thumb down from your clit to meet your fingers, press your fingers down to barely sink into your hole. 

jihoon lets out a deep noise. he braces his hands against the mattress, makes a motion to crawl towards you. 

“no,” you say, words slightly slurred. “no. one point, remember?”

jihoon’s brow furrows. 

you reach down with your other hand, legs spreading wider. with your other hand you pull at the flesh of your pussy lips, offering your fingers more space to work with. you shift your hand, making sure to keep one lip in place. your other hand – the one with soaking fingertips – strokes up and down, up and down, up and down. 

jihoon’s hand settles on your ankle. you kick out. “no sex, yeah?”

jihoon lets out a strangled noise you’ve never heard from him. 

you let your eyes fall shut. you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. letting out a soft breath, your fingers begin to glide up and down your cunt more quickly. 

you begin to focus on your clit more. your hand that was holding your cunt lips moves up, focusing on baring the area around your clit. with your other hand you begin to stimulate the direct areas on either side of your clit. you are still working through your panties, but you’re so wet that the friction is almost nonexistent; your fingers just slide, massaging into the flesh. 

you begin to set a rhythm. you rock your forefinger and middle finger against the sensitive area around your clit. you rock once; twice; then you’re dipping your fingers down the length of your cunt, down to your hole; you drag them back up, and begin your elaborate play once more. 

it’s somewhat treacherous. it would be easier if it was jihoon. you would be able to fully relax back into the bed, just have to lay there and take it. 

but: no sex. 

so you slowly build up a climax, toes curling and chest arching up. it’s not sudden, not unexpected. it’s a slow climax that has your cunt tingling, head dropping back against the pillow. 

you continue to slip your fingers against your clit, dragging out your climax, continuing through it. 

eventually you come back to yourself. 

your wrist hurts; your fingers are cramping. discomfort takes over you more than lust, and so you relax your body back into the bed, hands moving from your pussy. 

and you look at jihoon. 

your boyfriend drags his gaze up from your pussy to your face. one of his hands is wrapped around his cock. he hasn’t taken it out of his joggers, just as you hadn’t taken off your drenched panties. you can see the thick outline of it through the grey fabric. the dusky head of it rises from the waistband of his pants. 

his hand disappears into his pants. you can see his knuckles as he drags his hand down the length of his cock. you pay special attention as his hand reappears, thumb bullying the fat head of his dick. 

you hum, stretching your arms above your head. you extend one of your legs, the other leisurely arching against the mattress. 

you let your hands wander along your chest. you aren’t doing it to stimulate yourself but to draw jihoon’s attention. to help him along, you suppose. 

his eyes follow the trailing of your fingers. one of your hands cradles a tit, the thumb of your other pinching a nipple against your forefinger. 

eventually jihoon lets out a groan, dropping his head. short spurts of cum pulses from his cock, soaking his hand. jihoon continues to fuck his fist through it, hissing and letting out breath moans. 

you feel sedated; satisfied. so does he. jihoon crawls up the length of the bed to plop next to you. he doesn’t cuddle against you. he just lays his body next to you, thick muscle of his arm against yours. 

“no sex,” he breathes out. 

“no sex.”

W E E K  F I V E  

you are going to murder your teaching assistant. 

the halls of the history building are nearly vacant save for the lone straggler. lee jihoon has his office hours late enough in the day to where most classes are over. most everyone’s day is over. 

but you are far from being done. 

the ta offices are tucked back with the professor offices, closed off behind a heavy wood door that matches the old style of the rest of the building. you get to the door a few minutes before his office hours officially start, glaring down at the screenshot on your phone. 

While your writing response over Medea is sufficient, I am loath to remind you to use proper citations in the responses. Otherwise it will be considered plagiarism. As a warning, your letter grade for this assignment will fall a whole grade. 

again: you were going to murder him. 

why couldn’t he just let you off with a warning? why did he immediately jump to taking your grade for the assignment down? he was being completely unfair and you weren’t going to stand for it. 

the clock on your phone switched to a minute closer to his office hours. 

still five minutes away. 

whatever. 

you reach out for the door knob, twisting the cold metal in your hand. the door is heavy to open, but you jam your shoulder against it and swing it open. 

the teaching assistant office is a room with three desks pressed against the wall on each side. there’s hard, uncomfortable chairs; two sockets in the entire room. 

and lee jihoon, sitting in one of the chairs with his cock in his hand. 

immediately your boyfriend flinches, eyes wide as he looks towards you. once jihoon sees it is, in fact, you and not some poor student walking in to request help. 

then, like you weren’t even there, jihoon turns away and begins fucking into his hand once more. 

you hurry through the door, shoving it shut behind you and pushing in the lock. 

all the while you don’t look away from jihoon. 

his teeth sink into his lower lip, and his head tips back to reveal the long column of his pale throat. his black bangs fall around his face, not obscuring a single centimeter. 

jihoon’s hand works quickly, furiously, over his dick. precum drenches the head. when he drags his hand down he hisses, face wincing. 

you move across the room, shrugging your backpack onto the ground. 

the assignment and grade having left your mind entirely, you kneel before jihoon. he peers down at you, eyebrows raised wearily. “no sex,” he reminds you. 

“no sex,” you agree. 

you raise your hand to your face. it’s the easiest thing to spit into your palm, to replace jihoon’s hand with your own. as soon as you squeeze around his dick jihoon lets out a low, raspy noise. 

his cock is thick and perfect in your hand, the heavy weight of it tempting. you want it in your mouth; want him to be fucking his cock down your throat. 

instead you let him fuck your hand. you move your hand down. the slide is slightly rough, your spit and his precum not quite enough. jihoon likes it, though; you know he does. his breath is harsh and labored, his eyes squeezed shut. 

you twist your wrist as you move your hand towards the head of his cock. you press your thumb into the slit of his dock. 

“gonna cum,” he warns you. 

then you think back to your letter grade. 

meanly, perhaps even cruelly, you drop your hand to the base of his cock and squeeze, cutting off his orgasm. jihoon lets out a startled, irritated noise. 

“my assignment.”

“fuck,” he grumbles, one of his hands raising to push back his bangs. “are you serious?”

“let me off with a warning,” you say. you keep one hand around the base of his dick, tight and trapping. your other hand goes to his balls. you hold them, thumb gently swiping over the flesh. 

jihoon’s breath shutters in his throat. 

“a warning,” you demand. 

“fuck,” he says again. “fine. a warning.”

triumphant, you let a large smile take over your face. you begin to move your hand once again. 

W E E K  N I N E 

“now that you’ve finished properly with oedipus rex,” jihoon begins, rounding the table at the front of the classroom, “let’s get some opinions. raise your hand if you enjoyed the play.”

more hands than not raise around the room, including mingyu’s. you shoot him a betrayed look. the past nine class weeks the two of you had been close, sitting next to one another during lecture and discussion. you traded conversation and thoughts more often than not, using one another to bounce ideas and theories. 

and for him to have enjoyed the play? 

jihoon moves to lean against the desk. he crosses his arms over his chest. this time he’s wearing all black. it seems to lengthen his figure, stretch him out, as well as broaden the line of his shoulders. 

he looks good. 

“let’s get some opinions on people who didn’t like the play.” immediately his eyes are on you, calling out your name. “you didn’t enjoy the play.”

traitor. 

you shift in your seat. “uh. no, not really.”

“why?”

you were going to suffocate him in his sleep. 

“it’s rather –” you break off, searching for words. you weren’t the literary student; he was. “i don’t understand him, i guess.”

jihoon tilts his head. “him? sophocles? or oedipus?”

“oedipus,” you clarify. 

“can you explain a little further? what exactly don’t you understand?”

you bite down on your tongue for a moment, trying to gather yourself. the classroom is silent as you wait, unintentionally putting pressure on your shoulders as you realize they were all waiting for you to speak up. 

“he – oedipus – he’s sort of stupid, isn’t he?” someone chokes behind you. you ignore them, looking at jihoon. despite him putting you on the spot like an asshole, he’s still your boyfriend. his face isn’t harsh, isn’t judging as he watches you struggle for words. for a moment he isn’t your ta – he’s your boyfriend. he’s your boyfriend and you’re having a plain, casual discussion. “i mean. he knows the prophecy. but he just does whatever he wants anyways? he’s just – he’s got no common sense.”

jihoon hums, tapping his fingers along his forearms. “so his arrogance has made him entirely unlikable to you. are there any redeeming treats, do you think?”

you shake your head. “it makes him deserve his ending, i think. he thought he was above it all.”

jihoon nods. “i see. remember that argument for your paper. that’s a big question that needs answered: does oedipus deserve his ending? you could analyze that further and get a pretty solid base for your essay.”

he begins to question other students about whether they liked the story or not, leaving you alone. the remainder of class flows as such, ending with jihoon gently urging everyone to write down their thoughts to revisit for the essay. 

you gather your things and put them into your backpack. mingyu loiters next to you, hands stuffed into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

“what’re you doing after this?” he reaches down and grabs your backpack after you’ve zipped it up, slinging it onto his shoulder. “wanna hit the library? we could bounce some more ideas around.”

smiling, you begin to agree. 

jihoon calls your name, having gathered his own things and lodging his foot in the heavy wooden door, keeping it ajar. “do you mind coming with me to the office for a minute or two? i want to talk about what you’ve said during class.”

you swallow back a sigh, throwing jihoon a firm-lipped smile. mingyu swings your backpack back off his shoulder, handing it to you. “good luck.”

you make a face at him. mingyu doesn’t know the true nature of the relationship between you and jihoon, but he does know that you’ve visited jihoon during office hours more than once. not a week has gone by without you setting foot into the little ta office, setting your printed-out versions of whatever classic the class was working on. 

“print every story out,” jihoon had advised, voice carrying that air of superiority he always seemed to gain when the two of you were sat in the dark office. “mark it up. it’ll help you pay close attention to every line.”

jihoon leads you to the ta office, weaving through the throngs of students making their way through the marble halls. you sort of want to reach out and grab onto his shirt, just to ensure he stays visible. but you don’t. 

another ta is in the office, steadily working away at their own homework. she throws a smile at the two of you as you enter. “hey, jihoon.”

“hey.” he crosses into the room, setting his laptop in front of the chair that he had, only a few weeks ago, received a rather satisfactory hand-job from you in. “your office hours are over, aren’t they?”

the other ta nods. “yep. just working now. never seems to end.”

jihoon settles into the wooden chair, flipping up the screen to his laptop. he had to change it from the selfie the two of you had taken during a hike, matching dandelion flowers tucked into your ears. now a mountain range greets him. “we’re gonna be discussing oedipus rex.”

“won’t be a bother to me!”

you push over a chair close to jihoon, the feet of it scraping against the floor. 

“pull out your notes,” jihoon says. he pulls up his own version of the play on his computer; they’re scans of his own copy, scribbles and highlighted passages littering every single page. “we’ll go over what exactly prompted you to think this way about oedipus. it’ll help you get a real solid foundation for the essay.

“so,” he says once you have your notes spread out. “oedipus is a flawed character. there’s no doubt about it. the stage directions themselves reveal as much.”

as he talks, raspy voice droning on and words blending together in your mind, jihoon’s foot begins to slide across the floor. you can’t help but look at it, watch it. his black leather shoe moves from in front of him, slowly, silently, gliding across the floor to nudge against your own shoe. 

“he does whatever he wants, that’s what you said?”

you nod. 

“during discussion you mentioned that he knew the prophecy and ignored it,” jihoon says. his foot now fully rests against yours. it’s just one point of contact, and yet it seems to electrify you; warm you up. you can’t help but focus on it, like a cat watching a bird through the window. 

“but he doesn’t,” jihoon says. “he thoroughly believes his parents to be the king and queen of corinth. according to oedipus, and forgetting the context we ourselves know, he has escaped his fate.”

his words fade out. jihoon’s hands settle on his keyboard, a single finger absentmindedly tapping at a key. it’s not hard enough to do anything. it’s just a simple tap, a fumbling gesture. 

his shoe shifts. he presses his foot against yours from toe to heel. 

the other ta in the room begins to collect her things. you listen to her as she moves about, closing her laptop and shuffling papers. 

jihoon shifts in his chair. his knees spread out. his trousers strain, just slightly, against his thick thighs. the barest sliver of pale ankle slips out from beneath his trousers, his black socks hidden beneath the leather lip of his shoes. 

the ta opens the door; closes it behind her. 

“his character is one the citizens of greece would have identified with – at least the ones in athens,” jihoon says, and then he’s turning his face towards you. feeling rather caught, you meet his eyes. “so why do you think he deserves his ending?”

you furrow your brows. you’ve gone over this. “because he actively chooses it through his arrogance. he ignores the prophecy.”

jihoon sighs, lips pursing together. “you haven’t paid attention to a single word i’ve said.”

your mouth falls open a little. “i have!”

“haven’t,” he corrects. 

jihoon stands from the chair. you miss being able to see the skin of his ankle. he crosses the room, hand falling to the door knob. he locks it. “i think we need to work on your attention span, don’t you?”

your mouth goes dry. he begins to unbutton the cuffs of his black shirt as he moves back across the room. he pushes up his sleeves, shoving off his thick forearms. “jihoon?”

jihoon sits back in his wooden chair, legs automatically spreading out. one of his hands rests on the armrest of the chair, while he set his elbow on the other, using it to prop up his head. jihoon raises his brows at you. “well?”

“what?”

he sighs, as if burdened. “take off your pants and underwear.”

you snap your head towards the door. after verifying no one had magically walked through, you look back at jihoon, hissing his name. “what are you going on about?”

“we need to work on your memory,” he explains matter-of-factly, voice taking on that arrogant lilt he so often gets when in this room. jihoon likes this, you think; likes being in a position of power over you. likes being able to boss you around; able to tell you what to do. 

with one last glance at the door, you stand from your wooden chair. jihoon watches unabashedly as you work your pants down over your ass. you leave both your jeans and underwear on the hard floor of the office. 

jihoon pats his thigh wordlessly. 

you feel heat rush towards your cheeks. you’ve sat on his thighs before, have ridden them before. but it felt so fucking different to be lowering yourself onto the thick muscle in a university office, your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, the backs of your hands lightly brushing against the wood of his chair. 

you don’t do anything for a moment other than just sit on his thigh. the fabric of his pants is like silk against your skin, and you can’t help but slowly, hesitantly, rock your hips down onto him. 

jihoon’s hands go to your hips. he tilts his head back, the curls framing his temples brushing against the corners of his eyes. 

“now,” he says, “you think oedipus ignores his prophecy.”

you look down at your boyfriend, pouting at him. “you’re punishing me because i have a different opinion than you? about some old play?”

jihoon presses his lips together. then his hand is coming down sharply on your outer thigh, the sound acutely piercing your ears and reverberating in your head. he rubs roughly at the skin after, thumb swiping against the patch of skin as it turns violent with anger from his slap. 

“because you’re ignoring the text,” jihoon says. his hand slides from your thigh around to your ass. his fingers dig into your asscheek, contemplating the weight of it. “it’d be one thing if you had actual evidence that wasn’t in conflict with what sophocles was telling us.”

“if you’re trying to get me wet,” you say, thumbs tapping against his shoulders, “i’m not sure this is the way to go.”

jihoon moves the hand that was on your ass back to your hips. he squeezes the flesh beneath his hands, and then he’s slowly leading you into a rocking motion. it’s not much, but there’s enough connection between your cunt and his thigh to have a gentle swell of lust licking at your pussy. 

“don’t be smart,” he says. 

“you act smart all the time,” you snap back. you keep rocking your hips. “why can’t i?”

he scoffs a little, nails slightly digging into your skin. instead of any pain, they send a little spark of heat through you. “i’ve got degrees in this,” he explains. “i’m literally allowed to talk about this.”

“now,” he says, “oedipus never ignores his fate. he says as much. he believes polybus and merope to be his parents. when he becomes doubtful, he confronts them: ‘. . . i went to mother and father, questioned them closely . . . so as for my parents i was satisfied . . .’”

for a moment you’re speechless. and then you let out a loud laugh despite yourself. “you little fucking nerd, reciting oedipus rex to your girlfriend while she’s rubbing herself on her thigh.”

jihoon’s jaw tightens. he moves, hands on your hips pushing you up and off of him. once you’re standing, he joins you. as soon as jihoon is on his feet he’s pushing you around, moving so your bare ass is against his front. then he pushes further, pressing your body against the table in front of you. the edge of your table reaches your upper thigh, and so it’s easy for jihoon to place his hand against the middle of your back and press you until your front is firmly against the surface of the table. 

as soon as your chin is touching the cold table, jihoon is bringing his hand down sharply against your ass. you can’t help but let out a startled shout, body jerking from underneath him. 

“be good,” he murmurs, hand now gentle as he rubs at your skin in apology. “listen to your ta. trying to help, baby.”

“you’re being mean,” you say, toes curling against the frigid office floor as his hand travels to rest against the curve of your ass. 

“wouldn’t have to be if you’d be good,” he says. jihoon moves his hand down, the tip of his forefinger gliding against the area where your ass and thigh meet. “you gonna be good for me?”

you shift, moving one of your arms so you can rest your face against it. forehead pressing against your forearm, you nod. 

“good. now oedipus believed polybus and merope to be his true parents. he was still desperate to avoid the prophecy, so he abandoned his princely title and corinth. he wanted to be free of it, baby.”

his fingers tip inwards. your entire body tenses as his fingertips press alongside your folds. he doesn’t do anything further; doesn’t insert them. instead he just keeps them there, absentmindedly shifting his hand. 

“he is arrogant,” jihoon absconds, allowing you a single point. “we see that in the beginning. ‘. . . the world knows my fame: i am oedipus.’”

jihoon waits for a moment after quoting the play. when you don’t do anything other than let out a shaky breath, he rewards you. jihoon slowly moves his fingers against your cunt. he trails his fingers up and down your length. he maps out the full expanse of your pussy. his fingers slide up over your hole, which was now leaking and clenching properly. he brushes his digits over your clit almost clinically, giving it no more attention than the rest of you. 

“but he doesn’t ignore the prophecy. he believes he’s foiled it until he forces the shepherd to tell his story. he refuses to stop; refuses to listen to reason. he’s arrogant, yes, and hurtles straight towards the horrid truth of his parentage and marriage without a second thought.”

jihoon slowly, tortuously, slips a single finger into your cunt. his finger isn’t so thick to cause any discomfort. instead your pussy welcomes it, clenching around the digit. you can’t help but bare down on his finger, hips searching for more.

later you’ll remember to be mortified by the fact your boyfriend got you wet while talking about sophocles. 

but now you press your eyes shut, fingers lightly scraping against the surface of the desk. 

jihoon pushes his finger all the way inside of your pussy. you can feel it when it’s fully in, his knuckles scraping against your flesh. 

you cart your hips back, trying to get his finger to graze that special spongey place. 

“be good,” jihoon says, and then he’s retracting his finger from your cunt entirely. 

you let out a small gasp, brow furrowing. you turn your head to peer back at him. “hoonie….”

jihoon laughs at you, and then he’s lowering himself to press his chest along the line of your back. jihoon presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, one of his hands still holding tight to your hips. “you’re so cute when i’m fucking you,” he says, mouth moving against your cheek as he speaks. “you always get so cute. what is this?”

you pout at him. jihoon presses another kiss to your cheek, and then he’s standing. 

this time jihoon slides in two fingers. you frown, insistently pressing your forehead against your forearm as the stretch of his fingers slightly burns. it’s not unpleasant, of course. just a gentle burn that signals the walls of your pussy stretching to accommodate him. 

“there,” he says, satisfied. “now. where was i?”

he’s silent. you realize he’s waiting for you to speak, to prove you were listening. 

you let out a strangled groan, trying to think back. he had a single finger inside of you and it wasn’t enough. you try to think. you try to think of a single word to say that isn’t fuck or more; try to think despite the way jihoon is slowly angling his fingers towards your front, pressing them up. 

you can’t help but press your thighs together in anticipation. 

jihoon clicks his tongue, and then he’s pulling his fingers out. you let out a whine, trying to push yourself away from the desk. 

both of his hands go to your shoulders, keeping you firmly against the surface. “stay still,” he warns you. “i know you have a listening problem but i didn’t think it was this bad.”

there’s a rustle of clothing behind you. “don’t look,” jihoon says. “keep your face against the table.”

you can’t think of a reply, can’t think of anything to do other than what he says. you wonder if you should feel ashamed of how easily you become compliant for him. 

“oedipus doesn’t ignore the prophecy,” jihoon restates, and then he’s pressing his front against your ass. he’s taken off his pants and is just in his underwear. you can feel the shape of his thick cock against your ass, can feel it’s hard length along you. “he just believes polybus and merope when they say they are his true parents. there’s no harm in that. anyone would want to believe it when the people who raise them say they are their true parents.”

jihoon rocks his hips against you. his hands are holding your hips still as he, essentially, humps against your ass. 

“so in that regard your argument has a fallacy,” jihoon announces. 

a fallacy? 

you want to say something biting about how he’s able to even think about fallacies and arguments when he’s humping your ass, but then jihoon is returning two of his fingers to your pussy and you elect to keep silent. 

“he is arrogant, though,” jihoon says. he pushes two of his fingertips into your hole. you clench hungrily around them as if your pussy was trying to suck them in. you wonder if you’ve always been so – so whorish for him, or if it was a recent development from not having been properly fucked in nine weeks. 

“his pride is something that transcends time,” jihoon carries on. he doesn’t press his fingers any deeper inside of you. he rests the tip of his ring finger just barely against your clit. he doesn’t move it either; just rests it there, taunting. 

“everyone can think of a political leader who is too arrogant for their own good,” jihoon says. “it’s a tale as old as time. sophocles set the precedent with this story. a king on top of the world who listens to no one, only to be brought down to his knees by fate.”

jihoon begins to slide his fingers in. he does it leisurely, slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. 

“the evolution of his character is a fascinating one,” jihoon says, his ring finger leaving its place to instead rest against your hole. he doesn’t slide it in. you want to buck your hips back and force it inside. “arrogance to being humbled in every sense of the word. he is only wise until he can no longer see; only sees the truth once he is blinded

“do you remember,” jihoon says, “what he says after he blinds himself?”

you shake your head against your arm. his two fingers are nearly settled entirely inside of your pussy. you want them so deep inside of you that you can feel them in your throat. 

involuntarily you clench around his digits. 

jihoon clicks his tongue. his fingers stop moving in you. “what did i say? be good. none of this shit.”

you let out a little whine, your free hand curling into a fist. “sorry,” you say, unable to keep your voice from pitching up in desperation. “i’m sorry, hoonie.”

“say you won’t move,” jihoon instructs, voice seemingly detached. “say you’ll be a good girl for me and won’t move.”

your lower lip wobbles. you feel somewhat humiliated like this: your front pressing against the surface of a ta desk, shirt rucked up along your stomach and bare toes curling against the marble floors of the university history building. your boyfriend pressing all up against you, fingers stuffed into your cunt, telling you what to do as if you were some pathetic whore, desperate for a cock inside. 

but, because you are exactly that, you repeat his words, feeling wetness trickle from your pussy. “i’ll be good,” you whimper out. “i won’t move. i’ll be a good girl.”

jihoon lets out a quiet, nearly-silent huff of laughter. he retracts his fingers from your pussy, and immediately you’re feeling panic strike you. 

“be patient,” he chides you as you begin to press back against him. three of jihoon’s press against your hole. “be a good girl.”

jihoon pushes his three fingers into your pussy. you let out a high keening noise like a wounded animal, eyes squeezing shut and cunt eagerly drinking his fingers up. they’re nothing like his dick, aren’t as thick or delicious, but they’re something. 

the stretch burns and you wiggle absentmindedly, relishing in it. the burn is acute and hot and you yearn to press into it, to take more and more and more. 

“good,” he says once all three of his fingers are stuffed inside of you. “you look pretty like this, baby. you know that?”

you whine. you don’t move. 

jihoon’s three fingers press up, and when they bump against your bundle of nerves you can’t help but wiggle back, searching. 

“do you remember?” he repeats. “what’s the first thing oedipus says after he’s blinded?”

you shake your head. you don’t know how he expects you to think about anything. you feel as if you’ve been strung along, as if he’s been tugging at a chain and you’ve been stumbling behind him. 

“‘oh,” jihoon quotes, and then he’s lowering himself to press against you. his mouth it against your ear, his fingers shifting within your pussy due to his change of position. when he speaks again you can hear his voice as clear as day despite how he murmurs, and it’s as if he’s wrapped entirely around you; as if he’s consumed you. “‘oh, the agony! i am agony.’”

jihoon presses his fingers back into you so the tips of them were pressing against your pleasure spot once more. 

“he’s felt true agony now,” jihoon explains. he keeps his fingers still now. “he’s an icarus fallen to the earth. his wings of wax have melted. he’s a king with his word left in crumbles; with his queen dead and children made of sin. he’s nothing.”

jihoon’s nose presses against the shell of your ear. “his arrogance was his destruction. can you tell me more about it?”

you open your mouth to speak. you can’t. and even if you could, it isn’t as if your brain is working. there’s nothing inside of your mind. the lust, the desire, that takes over your body is so big it swallows up everything else and renders you dumb. 

jihoon huffs out a laugh, mean. “fine. at least do this to prove you’ve listened to me: tell me the first thing oedipus says after becoming blind.”

you feel as if he’s surrounding you. you can feel jihoon’s weight along your back, can feel his fingers inside of your cunt, stretching you out. you feel so keyed up, so ready for something. not something – him. you want jihoon. you want him carnally. you want his dick stuffed inside of your pussy. you want his mouth on your neck; want his hands on your tits. you want him pressing your face into the desk and drilling into your pussy. 

you open your mouth. an embarrassing noise comes out. 

“come on,” jihoon says. “you can do it.”

“‘oh,’” you breathe out, trying to remember the exact words. “oh, agony! i’m — i’m agony!”

jihoon must judge your vague quotation as good enough. he moves off of your back, and you can’t help but whine, wanting his weight settled against you once more. 

his hand shifts inside of you. 

he slides his fingers out. you can feel your cunt resisting the slide, pussy clenching down on his fingers. 

“hoonie,” you beg. 

“be good,” he chides you. “remember. no sex.”

and then jihoon is thrusting his fingers so forcefully into your pussy that you can feel the sting as his knuckles hit your ass. the sharp noise of skin hitting skin rings out. you can barely process it before he’s withdrawing his fingers and fucking them back in just as quickly. 

jihoon finger-fucks you harshly, as if it were his dick he was shoving inside. your ass jiggles with each thrust back in. you whine and cry, and you can feel your ass begin to smarten from the sting. but you still arch back and meet each thrust of his fingers eagerly, craving the pleasure-pain. 

it’s rough and you can feel the orgasm, that string he had been messing with for what seems to be hours, begin to tighten. 

“want,” you pant out, fingernails scraping against the desk. “want you, hoonie. please, please, please.”

“beg, baby.”

you let out a cry. there’s tears at the corners of your eyes. “please, hoonie. i want you. want you, want you. i want you, hoonie.”

your voice breaks off, tight with emotion. 

jihoon lets out a curse, and then he’s dropping behind you. jihoon shoves your leg up, and you follow suit, placing your knee on the able and giving him access to your pussy. jihoon shoves a hand against your thigh, keeping it in place on the table. 

his mouth licks a stripe from where his fingers plunge into your pussy to your clit, taking that aching muscle between his lips and suckling. 

when you orgasm it’s harsh and loud, fluids gushing from your pussy and soaking jihoon’s face. he takes you into his arms, pulling you to the floor with him and pressing kisses to your face. 

“good girl,” he murmurs, voice raspy and comforting. the office is drenched in the smell of pussy – of your pussy – and his nose shines with your release. he ignores it, his clean hand pushing back stray strands of hair from your face so he can press a sweet kiss to your nose. “good girl.”

W E E K  T H I R T E E N

you think, fleetingly, that you’re not being fair. 

but then you remember that girl – girl, because she can’t be any older than eighteen, fresh out of high school and far too young to be sniffing around your boyfriend – and how she pressed close to jihoon as she showed him something on her computer, and you can’t help but think you’re not being harsh enough. 

with that in the forefront of your mind, you ease the hot pink dildo in your aching cunt. you can feel fluid gush from your pussy, a slick combination of your own desire and the generous amount of lube you had massaged onto the dildo. 

the stretch burns, stretching the walls of your pussy. it’s a stark, acute contrast to the three fingers you used to stretch yourself, and you couldn’t help but arch your back up off of jihoon’s couch, toes curling and mouth dropping open. 

you can feel the fluids leak down your pussy, sliding along the curve of your ass. 

good, you think. sink into the fabric of the couch so from now on, whenever he sits here, he has to smell your cunt. 

your hand stills once the base of the dildo is flush against your ass. you shift, hips tilting as you try to relieve some of the sting. 

you stretch out for your phone, glancing at the time. the dildo is pushed from your pussy by the movement. 

jihoon will be home any minute. your hand returns to the dildo, pushing it back into your pussy. your cunt sucks it in, eager and greedy. 

clenching down on the dildo, you can’t help the thrill of satisfaction that shoots through you. you feel so delightfully full, as if some part of you was a gaping hole that needed to be filled. 

well – 

you suppose that line of thought isn’t too wrong. 

you grab the dildo, fingernails digging slightly into the jelly-like texture. you slide the dildo from your cunt. despite how much lube you used, despite how wet your cunt is, the dildo still is slow to slide out, your pussy clamping down to try and keep it in place. 

you pull it out until just the tip of the dildo is pressed against your hole. your juices glint evilly on the dildo, a long, thick string along the side of it. 

slowly you ease it back inside. you tip your head back, foot pressing down on the cushion of the couch in an attempt to mentally steady yourself. it’s a dragging sensation that has impatience licking at your brain, trying to push its way to the forefront. 

you pump the dildo in and out, in and out, until you are satisfied that the burn from your pussy stretching to accommodate it is no more. 

you draw it out. 

and then you force it back in, sharp enough for the gelatin balls to slap against your ass in a poor mimicry of the real thing. 

your free hand goes to your tit, framing a pebbled nipple between two of your fingers. you massage it, pull it, as you harshly fuck the dildo in, soft pants escaping your mouth as your body begins to ignite with pleasure and the wanton desire for more. 

you can’t help but want. it’s as if the desire is written into your dna, lining the fabric of your entire being. you want to be fucked, want to be thrown onto your front and taken from behind; want jihoon fucking his fat cock into your pussy in one swift motion, forcing your pussy to stretch around him. 

you want jihoon. 

you could devour him, you think as you crook the dildo up towards the front of your body, searching for your g-spot. you would devour him whole. you would take and take from him until he’s entirely yours, body and soul. 

the lock to the door clicks. you hurriedly bring the fingers messing with your nipple up to your mouth, licking at them before taking the nub between them and rolling. 

the front door to jihoon’s apartment swings open, your boyfriend stepping through. his eyes immediately catch on you, naked and wanton. 

“what – fuck –” he shoves the door shut behind him, loud and firm. “what the fuck are you doing?!”

you slide the dildo from your pussy, slow and torturous, ensuring he’s watching. jihoon’s eyes, naturally, flick down to your pussy. the dildo is still slick with fluid, and you can where the more dense of your fluids stain the pink of the dick. 

“what are you doing,” he repeats, dropping his leather bag to the floor. 

“taking matters – ah,” you moan out, massaging your gummy g-spot with the head of the dick. “taking matters into my own hands, jihoon; what else?”

his hands go to his shirt. jihoon hurriedly pushes at the buttons of his white dress shirt, letting it fall to the floor after he’s done. his trousers follow suit, and he leaves them behind with his shoes and socks. 

“what are you doing?” you grin at jihoon toothily, echoing his words. “no sex, remember?”

jihoon moves towards you regardless. he had done his hair that morning, gelling it back. now a few stray strands frame his temples, giving him a perfectly disheveled look. his tank top does nothing to conceal his collar bones, the line of his shoulders proud and wide. 

his hands find your thighs. he separates your legs, baring your pussy entirely. 

you still your hand, just keeping the dildo snug inside of you, refusing to move it further. “what are you doing, jihoon?”

“looking,” he retorts, eyes dancing around your body as he takes you in. you think you look like some perverted creature, carnal desire and desperation written onto every centimeter of skin. 

“don’t touch,” you chide him, moving an leg from his grasp. jihoon tightens his hold on the other as you press your foot against his chest, lightly pressing in a piss-poor attempt to push him back. 

jihoon rolls his eyes at you, nose crinkling and mouth twisting into a sneer. 

“oh,” you breathe out, sheathing the dildo fully inside once more. his eyes meet yours. you let a grin take over, unable to help but tease him. “‘oh, the agony! i am agony!’ isn’t that right, hoonie?”

for a split second you can see shock take over jihoon’s features, catlike eyes widening. a strike of triumph hits you, feeling as if you are the cat that got the canary. 

but then jihoon is grabbing the dildo from your hand. he pulls it out, the slide making your mouth drop in a gasp and body arch up off of the couch. 

“h – hoonie –!”

“agony,” he hisses, and then jihoon is shoving his boxers down to his knees. 

his cock bounces from his underwear, slapping against the fabric of his tank-top. it’s thick and angry, and when he runs his hand along it, rubbing at the head, a thick marble of precum leaks from it. 

“no – no sex,” you say, voice hoarse as you subconsciously keep your eyes on his cock. you’ve been starving for jihoon’s dick for so long, and here it is, thick and pulsing in front of you. 

and like a starving woman in front of a table overflowing with food, you eagerly welcome jihoon’s dick when he presses the tip against your hole. you spread your legs, knees knocking against his hips as he presses against you. 

jihoon keeps his dick in hand, not entering you. he rubs his dick up between your folds, a soft curse escaping his lips at how wet you are. once he’s at your clit he stops, rubbing the head of his dick against you. 

“fuck –” your voice is taking on a whining tone, and you can’t help but fleetingly wonder what happened to you showing jihoon who’s boss, making him witness just what he’s missing. but that thought is gone from your mind as soon as it enters, and instead you’/re pleading with jihoon. “please, hoonie – please fuck me, please.”

he sighs, the tip of his cock pressing against your hole. still, he doesn’t enter you. “i thought we agreed on no sex,” he says. “no sex until the semester is over.”

you cry out, hips trying to shift upwards and force his dick inside. jihoon pulls back. “please – put it in. it won’t count – won’t count if you don’t cum in me, yeah? won’t count if i don’t cum around your dick.”

jihoon lets out a loud, shivering groan that seems to release from the depths of his soul. 

jihoon presses his dick into your cunt. the head pops past your entrance, and then he’s sliding home. 

your pussy takes jihoon eagerly, sufficiently prepared by your fingers and the dildo. his dick is just slightly thicker than the dildo, and so there is a pleasurable sting that burns at your core. it’s not horrible, and you let out a moan as you cant your hips up. 

jihoon doesn’t stop pressing into you until his balls are against your ass. his hands are on either of your legs, keeping you spread for him. jihoon uses his grip on you to push himself back, bringing his cock out of your cunt slowly. the drag of his dick is delicious, is everything you’ve been missing for months. 

you’re not sure if this is just because you haven’t been fucked appropriately since august and it’s in the middle of november, but you feel completely overwhelmed by jihoon. 

his cock feels so good inside of you. it’s thick and warm, and when he shifts his dick presses up towards your core. his blunt head presses against your g-spot, and you can’t help the little mewl of approval that escapes you. 

“feels good,” he breathes out. his eyes flutter, nails digging into your skin. “you feel so fucking good.”

jihoon pulls his hips back, leaving your pussy save for the tip of his dick. he lingers, the fat head of his dick keeping you plugged. 

when jihoon thrusts in, it’s rough and well-aimed for your g-spot. you let out a shrill noise, eyes rolling back. you don’t know if sex has ever felt like this before – if you’ve ever felt so overwhelmed just by a single thrust. 

your hands scramble, grabbing at the couch. “hoonie!”

he slides out; fucks back in. 

jihoon’s pace is rough, as if he’s making up for lost time. as if he’s determined to mold your pussy back into the shape of his dick. he uses your pussy, uses you. he uses your cunt in an almost detached way, as if you were some random fuck and not his treasured girlfriend. 

eventually jihoon is pulling from your cunt with a strangled moan. his dick is drenched with your fluids, thick strings decorating it like lewd jewelry. jihoon palms his dick, and then he’s thrusting into his hand once, twice, thrice before he cums onto your stomach. 

he lets out a moan, a gasp of your own joining. his cum is thick and hot. you want to shove it into your pussy. 

jihoon’s hands go back to your thighs, and then he’s dropping to his knees. 

“can’t wait to fuck you,” he groans, “can’t wait to fill you up. as soon as finals are over, you’re mine. got it? you’re mine.”

then his tongue is licking a stripe up from your cunt to your clit, and all other thoughts leave you. 

W E E K  S I X T E E N

the lecture hall, just like most of the rest of campus, is nearly deserted. 

you had left your apartment as soon as the email about your final grade dinged your phone, delight and want immediately turning at your stomach. you had been looking forward to this day for months: the day you and jihoon were finally free to fuck (and publicly be in a relationship, but that wasn’t the most pressing matter at the moment). 

jihoon was at the front of the large room, talking to the last stragglers of the exam he had to oversee. you rush down the steps, unable to help the broad smile on your face. 

your boyfriend looks up as you thunder down the auditorium, and you catch the moment his own face breaks out into a wide grin. 

he calls out your name as you step off of the last step. 

the student he’s talking to waves goodbye, and you take the spot where he had been standing. 

“hey,” you say, unable to keep your smile tamed. “how’s it going?”

jihoon rolls his eyes at you, folding his arms over his chest. this close to him you could smell his cologne, the sharp smells of amber and vanilla. he was wearing his white dress shirt again, though this time it was dressed up with a simple black tie. 

“glad it’s over,” jihoon murmurs. 

you glance around the room. there’s two girls at the back, talking excitedly as one of them packs up their things. 

“took you forever to grade the exams.”

jihoon scoffs. “as if. you turned it in last night at midnight.”

you shrug. the girls begin to make their way out of the room, calling out good-byes to jihoon. 

“all things considered,” he says, raising a hand in acknowledgement towards the girls, “this semester wasn’t so bad.”

you laugh at him. “it’s been agony to me,” you say, knowing how loaded the word is for the both of you. 

the heavy wooden doors shut solemnly behind the girls. it’s as if a switch flicks off in jihoon’s mind. his eyes visibly soften before you, his smile taking on a gentler shape. 

“i missed you,” he says. he doesn’t say anything else; that isn’t jihoon’s way. he’d write a thousand poems for you and keep them locked away. he’ll say three words, i missed you, and his meaning will include a hundred other things: i love you; i adore you; i want you close to me always; you bewitch me. 

“i missed you, too,” you echo, hoping he feels the weight of your simple response. 

jihoon keeps his face passive as he opens his arms, and you go easily into his embrace. you burrow your face into his neck, breathing him in. he wraps his thick arms around you, pressing you close to his body. 

for a moment the two of you just exist in this little universe. 

jihoon is the first to pull away, though he doesn’t go far. as if magnetic, you tilt your lips towards him, meeting his mouth halfway. 

the kiss begins gentle and solemn. it’s the end of a sentence, finishing the semester, which had been filled with tension and desperation, with a sweet embrace and soft lips. 

you separate your mouth from his. you skim your lips along his chin, following the edge of his jaw. you trace the edges of his face with your mouth, trying to memorize the shape of him. 

“i missed you,” you say again. 

jihoon is silent. he sinks a hand into your hair, cradling the back of your head. he guides your face back to his, his lips pressing a long kiss to yours. 

this time when jihoon kisses you it’s firm. his mouth is insistent against yours, devouring you in a way that leaves you breathless. he presses you back, his tongue sliding past your lips. 

jihoon walks you backwards until your thighs are bumping against the table. he keeps your head still, tongue licking into your mouth and exploring. 

his free hand slides beneath your shirt, grabbing at the flesh of your hip. 

“hoonie,” you say, pulling back from his mouth. jihoon hums, pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth. “want you.”

“got me,” he returns. 

despite his gentle words, jihoon’s hands move quickly against you. he tosses your shirt and bra aside, mouth attaching to your neck as soon as you are bare. his hand slides down to the waistband of your pants, fingers dipping past it. jihoon presses open-mouthed kisses to your skin, eager to reefamiliarize himself with your body entirely. his nips at the curve of your tit, and then his mouth is suckling at a pebbled nippple. 

you whine against him. you run your hands overh im. you feel the curve of his own pecs, feel the flat plane of his stomach, still hidden by his shirt. you tug at his tie, and then you’re molding your hand against his straining erection. 

jihoon groans against you. “careful,” he says. 

“we shouldn’t get too carried away,” you return. your fingers find the button of his trousers nonetheless. it’s the easiest thing to pop it through the hole, loosening his pants. “we should go home. anyone could walk in.”

“‘oh, the agony,’” jihoon says, and then he’s turning you around and pressing you against the table. 

he’s quick to pull your pants and underwear to your ankles. jihoon helps you step out of them, leaving them in a discarded mess by the leg of the table. 

he smooths his hands over your legs and thighs as he stands, his tough heavy and warm. jihoon positions you; slides his hand along your leg and pushes it up onto the table, foot dangling over the edge. 

he slides two of his fingers inside of your pussy. you clench down on the intrusion, biting down on your lip. 

“don’t –” you sigh out, turning over your shoulder to look at him. “i’m ready.”

jihoon blinks at you for a moment, and then he’s cursing. “slut,” he says, though his lips twitch up into a grin. 

he doesn’t bother undressing all the way. you can feel the fabric of his pants bunch against your ass when his cock is buried deep inside. his cock stretches you so delightfully. you feel as if you’re finally whole after an eternity of missing something. 

maybe you really are a slut. 

jihoon slides his dick out slowly, making you feel every centimeter of his cock. the glide is nearly on the side of too-dry, but your eyes roll back nonetheless, nails scraping against the wood of the table. 

“fuck,” he breathes out, and then he’s punching his dick back into your pussy. 

you rock forward on the table, the edge of it digging into you. you don’t mind it. instead you push back, meeting his thrust. 

“missed you,” jihoon says. you wonder if he’s talking about your pussy. you wouldn’t blame him if he was: you missed his cock, afterall. 

you missed out his dick feels within you, heavy and stretching you out. you missed how he fucks into you, how his hips slap against your ass. you missed the sting of him fucking you, the sting of skin against skin coupled with the electric sparks of pleasure that shoot through you when the blunt head of his cock hits your g-spot. 

jihoon fucks you as if you were reuniting. which, you suppose, you are. he fucks you as if he’s treasuring each thrust, as if he’s making sure each rock of his hips is perfect to make up for lost time. 

you can feel the fabric of his shirt when jihoon presses his front against your back. his black tie dangles beside your face. he uses his weight to keep you against the table, his hips picking up pace. 

he practically jackrabbits into your pussy, hips frantic. 

“missed you,” he says, and then he’s grabbing your face to press another open-mouthed kiss to your lips. there’s no finesse: it’s just as messy as the way he fucks you. spit slides from mouth to mouth, tongues meeting and tangling. 

he’s devouring you, you realize. he’s gobbling you up, owning you inside and out. 

jihoon reaches down, his fingers finding your clit easily. he slips his fingers against your clit, the wetness of your pussy making the glide easy. his fingers against your clit are just as frantic as his hips fucking into you, and the combined sensation brings your orgasm crashing down around you more quickly than you would like. 

he slows his hips to a stop as you cum around his cock, whining high at the back of your throat. it’s overwhelming. you haven’t cum around his dick in months. his cock stretches you still, and every minute shift of your hips back against him has his dick pressing against all the sensitive places. 

“good?” his voice is raspy against your hair. 

you nod. 

jihoon pulls back, and you hiss at the feeling of his dick leaving your pussy. 

he doesn’t stay gone for long. jihoon maneuvers you onto your back. he grabs each of your thighs, holding them up and baring you to him. you can feel the juices of your release as they slide down your cunt. 

he thrusts back in. immediately you’re tossing your head back against the table, eyes rolling back. your toes curl. 

jihoon hooks your legs over the crook of each of his arms, and then he’s setting a harsh pace once again. his grunts are loud againsts the quiet of the room, the slapping of skin against skin sending heat rushing up towards your face. you feel too high strung, feel as if your neurons and electrons are buzzing around underneath your skin. you want to move away from his cock and how it tortures you, pressing against your g-spot as sensitivity rears its ugly head; you want to fuck down onto his dick until you’re unable to walk. 

when jihoon cums, it’s copious. it’s too much. you feel his dick throb within you as he spills, filling you with hot seed. it’s so much; you want more. 

jihoon pulls his dick from your pussy only once he’s finished. he isn’t done with you, though. 

he slaps his palm against your cunt, the sensation acute and electric. 

you want to cry. you don’t want him to ever stop. 

jihoon slaps your cunt again, and then he’s hooking three of his fingers inside of your pussy. he thrusts him inside in the same fashion he did his cock: harshly, roughly. the sting of his knuckles against your flesh isn’t unlike the sting of his hips. 

when you cum, it’s with a loud sob. he presses the fingers of his free hand against your clit, rubbing it once more while his fingers keep pressing up against your g-spot, relentless in his mission of wringing you dry. 

after it’s over, you hold out your arms. 

jihoon gathers you into his embrace easily, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you know you should hurry and dress, know that it’ll be a matter of time before someone wanders into the room. 

you don’t care. 

instead you just bask in the attention of your boyfriend, forehead pressing to his shoulder. 

[maruflix]

  — ★ hell hath no fury...

☆ — like a woman scorned.

featuring: narumi gen x f!reader

synopsis: it was at this moment narumi gen knew... he fucked up.

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the first division, hoshina’s little sister!reader, narumi is an idiot, men who beg and grovel, no beta we die like narumi’s hair in the anime

word count: 1,8k

Heav’n has no Rage,

Narumi Gen knows he fucked up.

He can see it in his subordinates’ eyes, in the way they all ignore his silent plea for them to acknowledge the levity of his earlier statement.

“Without me to watch your back, you’re practically dispensable.”

Gen thought everyone knew he was just kidding.

He rethinks that, because you — the one who never backs down from a playful banter — immediately fall silent.

“I-I’m sure the captain didn’t mean that.”

“Of course I did.”

Of course he didn’t. But in the heat of the moment, he can only blame Kikoru for opening her mouth and forcing him to say words he didn’t mean.

Because what else could he do? Apologize?

There’s a heavy tension around the cafetaria table, and it still hangs in the air even after you gathered your belongings and left with a clatter.

like Love to Hatred turn’d,

“Here.”

You barely spare him a glance, opting instead to take a fresh towel from the rack.

Gen purses his lips, gripping the towel he offered you before bringing his hand down to rest on his sides.

“So, uh, you wanna play that new game tonight?”

You’ve been avoiding him these past few weeks and it’s killing him more than he’d like to admit. To usually have you by his side and suddenly be robbed of your company…

You straighten your chin. Gen feels like he’s going to choke.

He’s still standing in the same spot even after you stand up and leave. Behind him, he can hear you laughing with the other officers.

Practice used to be fun, now it’s like he’s walking on eggshells or the chill in the air will freeze him solid if he’s not careful. The worst part? They pretend like nothing is wrong.

It’s not like anything happened after the incident — life goes on as normal in the Ariake Maritime Base. The same practice, the same missions, the same meetings. No one spoke of the incident. Not even you.

Still, he knows your relationship with him changed, and not in the way he intended. He wants to continue being the person who everybody thought is your boyfriend, but is actually your best friend, but it’s complicated because he kinda has feelings for you. But now you won’t even acknowledge his existence.

Gen knows he has to apologize.

But he doesn’t know how.

Nor Hell a Fury,

“What?! You haven’t apologized?!”

Gen doesn’t understand what the big deal is. Everyone knows that you’re always involved in some sort of bickering with him.

The two of you compete about everything. To him, being able to compete with someone fair and square is rare — it’s proof enough that the two of you are on equal footing. So why is everyone acting like one nonsensical sentence from him discredits all your achievements and prowess?

If he says he’s the Director of the Defense Force, will old man Shinomiya instantly step down from his position and give him the spot?

“… No, I don’t feel the need to.”

Eiji shakes his head. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Gen sighs and looks to the side.

Truthfully, he regrets it already. Why else would he discuss his relationship with Hasegawa Eiji, of all freaking people? You ignore his texts, reject all his calls, pretends like he doesn’t exist, and you even exit the room when he comes in. He’s desperate, that’s why.

Gen admits that he was never good with words. He’s better at showing you how he feels through his actions. Now he can’t even do that, because you don’t let him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Gen breathes out a shaky; “What should I do?”

“I have an idea,” Eiji starts, “but I don’t know if you’re brave enough to do it.”

When Gen opens his eyes, there’s a newfound determination in them.

like a Woman scorn’d.

“Sir, please, you can’t just enter like this..!”

Narumi Gen has never let a kaiju stop him, let alone a mere attendant. He storms his way past the flurry of housekeepers, gardeners, and household staff — all of them combined is not nearly enough to stop him.

He halts in front of the wooden steps leading up to the front doors, huffing and catching his breath.

The stately Hoshina Estate looks intimidating with the shiny thatched roofs reflecting the brilliant sun.

The attendants have caught up to him now, their footsteps thudding on the rocks behind him. Hushed whispers of his identity and his purpose of coming reverberates through the field, making his chaotic heart thunder loudly in his chest.

“(Y/N), please come out! I’ve come to see you!”

For a moment, no one dares to step forward.

What is the Narumi Gen doing here? It’s no secret that Japan’s strongest anti-kaiju combatant has always been at odds with the Hoshina Family’s Hoshina Soshiro, but why has he come seeking for their young lady?

They all wait with bated breath. There is no response. What will he do next?

Gen gets down to his knees.

“(Y/N), please..!!”

The attendant from before scrambles to his side, gripping his arm in an effort to drag him out. Gen stubbornly stays rooted to his spot. He’s prepared to do this, however long it takes.

“Sir, please don’t cause any problems!”

“I just need a few seconds, please!” Gen frantically reasons, “(Y/N), I want to apologize, so please come out, damn it!”

A second attendant seizes his other arm, and just as he thought he’s going to fail, the front doors slide open.

Gen looks up to see you staring down at him. Next to you, your brother crosses his arms as his gaze trails down to him in amusement. The two Hoshina siblings, dressed in hakama, katanas resting snugly on both your hips as it gleams in the sunlight.

A shiver runs down Gen’s spine at the coldness of your glare.

The attendants immediately bow in your presence, “Our apologies for the ruckus. This person suddenly broke down the gate and forced his way in, insisting to meet with the Young Lady,” The attendant throws Gen a glare, to which he ignores, “Young Lord Soshiro, should we throw him out?”

“Should we, Lil’ Sis?” Hoshina Soshiro wraps an arm around you protectively, “What’s this clown doing here anyway. Should I get Soichiro?”

“No, no, wait! (Y/N), I made a mistake!” Gen inches his body up but immediately bows back again to retain his kneeling position, his legs now shivering from adrenaline, “I didn’t mean what I said that day! I was wrong, and I.. I’m sorry!”

He’s pretty sure the entire household can hear him screaming, but he genuinely doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re indispensable to the First Division and you totally don’t need me to watch your back, I was just.. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Gen doesn’t even dare to lift his face up, “I really regret saying those words, I…”

“Look at me when you apologize.”

Your sharp reply makes his head jolt upwards.

He can see an amused smirk creeping on your lips as you finally humor his attempt of trying to get your forgiveness.

“So you stormed my family estate just for this? Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

Gen shakes his head. “I’ve waited long enough to apologize. Am I forgiven?”

You smile. “Well, now. No need to beg.”

Like a cue, the attendants finally let go of his aching arms.

You step to the side, inviting him to enter. “I was just training with my brothers. Wanna join?”

Gen practically beams as he makes his way to you. He trips on the last step, almost falling on his face, and smiles sheepishly when he finally reaches the door. “Pardon the intrusion.”

The two men watches as you walk back inside with a smile on your face.

Soshiro shakes his head. “Yer’ a mess.”

Gen laughs. “For your sister, I always am.”

They make their way inside, walking in a comfortable pace.

“Don’t let Soichiro hear that. Yer’ gonna get a beating.”

“If that means we can be brother-in-laws, sure.”

Soshiro scrunches his nose in disgust. “Wouldn’t count on it. Yer’ not even dating.”

Gen hums. Maybe he should ask Eiji how to go about that.

taglist: @bgyuus, @plsmarrymehioriyo, @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @moon-cakiie, @17020, @eeiternity, @ryescapades, @vash-yuu, @yueliie (tags not working as usual so i will be tagging in the comments smh)

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

one order to be served by lewis carl davidson hamilton please!! oaty slice, english muffin, apple turnover and croissant with a side of tea, cider and pina colada 😁😁 reader is working remotely and having an online meeting but lewis is dying to eat her out and just do it while she was in the meeting 🥵💦

irresistible

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, i think this may be my longest story yet, i have been dying to write this and get back to writing after being gone so long, i hate promising to post and then not being able to cause of work, sorry for the late reply <3 your requested prompts will be bolded

pairing; husband lewis hamilton x female wife reader

blurb; working from home while trying to hide the fact that your married and pregnant is hard when your husband can't keep is hands to himself, he's just lucky you love him aka lewis eats his wife out while she's on a zoom call

warnings; oral fem!receiving, thigh kisses, belly kisses, semi public sex, body worship, pregnancy kink. [let me know if i missed anything]

tea; semi public sex cider; body worship pina colada; pregnancy oaty slice; "you smell like me" english muffin; "i could die between these legs" apple turnover; "can you keep it down in there" changed to "can you keep it down under there" croissant; "don't you dare"

words; 3.1k

currently playing; hands to myself by selena gomez "can't keep my hands to myself, no matter how hard i'm trying to"

"oh god dammit, boba no!" you scolded your two year old calico who sat on the stool next to your laptop, swatting at the screensaver you had set, picking her up you stepped out of the little home studio you'd made for yourself during the covid days.

"lew!" you called out waiting for an answer but after not getting one, you wandered down the hall and into the living room, as you carried boba into the living room, she squirmed in your arms, clearly displeased at being removed from her new favorite perch, you sighed, scratching behind her ears to relax her "i know, i know the pretty lights are fun, but mommy needs to work."

as you entered the living room, you noticed lewis sprawled out on the couch, completely engrossed in whatever he was watching on his phone. you rolled your eyes fondly, a soft smile decorating your face as you realized why he hadn't answered your call.

"lew..." still no response as his eyes remained trained on his phone "lewis hamilton" you scolded and that caught his attention immediately, looking up at you with soft eyes as he dropped his phone.

"am i in trouble.." he gulped, looking sheepish as he responded.

"not yet," you said, your tone softening as you took in his worried expression. "but you will be if you don't start paying attention."

you merely dropped boba onto his lap and crossed your arms over your chest "please keep her out of my studio... the album is due at the end of the month and i still have three songs to finish" you groaned.

he nodded numbly which made you feel guilty for scolding him over something so silly and so you lent down and placed little kisses against his lips "i'm sorry i called you lewis" you mumbled as your thumb gently traced over his cheek. "you'll always be my lew"

you left him on the sofa, shuffling to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge but before you could move and return to your studio, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, cradling your pregnant belly lightly.

"you smell like me bub" lewis mumbled into the skin of your neck, which sent shivers zipping up and down your spine.

you leaned back into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his body against yours. a soft smile played on your lips as you placed your hands over his, intertwining your fingers.

"i should hope so," you murmured, turning your head slightly to catch his eye, resting it on his shoulder. "i've been wearing your sweater all day."

he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. "i noticed," he said, his arm tightening around you. "it looks incredible on you."

"well i unfortunately have to take it off soon" you groaned "stupid zoom meeting with my producer"

lewis sighed, running his fingers over your bump, the soft fabric of his over sized sweater rubbing on your skin gently. "can't you just keep it on for the meeting?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

you shook your head, a wry smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "not unless i want to explain to my producer why i'm wearing 'the' lewis hamilton's sweater" you giggled.

lewis chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "but i'd love to see see his reaction." his voice dropped into a whisper, your producer had always been flirty with you mainly because he thought you were single and lewis hated it.

you playfully swatted his arm, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity and tone of voice. "that's horrible lew"

"i hate the way he flirts with you, your mine" he growled against the skin of your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin. "and this proves it" his finger ran over the cold metal of your wedding band.

"your lucky i love you lew, your so possessive and you and i both know you like keeping this private, i like it being just us" you giggled, removing yourself from his grip, pulling his sweater up and over your head, placing it on the counter.

you stood on your tippy toes to peck his lips "love you, i should go" and with that you made your way back to your studio, almost waddling due to the size of your belly.

as you walked, lewis couldn't help but admire you in your white floral maternity dress, he couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in his belly or resist the surge of desire that simmered within him.

lewis had always found you irresistible but now that you were pregnant he could hardly ever keep his hands to himself anymore, working on your newest album was the only break you got from his ever wandering hands.

but unfortunately for you, it seemed that not even that would be enough to stop lewis anymore, he made his way to your home studio, feet padding on the hardwood floors as he went.

you wouldn't have even known that lewis was there, leaning against the door-frame had he not accidentally bumped the door causing the hinges to squeak.

"what are you doing lew" you mumbled, taking your seat in front of your mic, lewis didn't answer your question, he merely wandered over and dropped to his knees in front of you.

his head rested in your lap, hands holding your hips as he placed kisses to your swollen belly, each of them filled with love and a gentleness that only lewis had ever shown you, it was part of the reason you'd fallen for him.

"want to taste you bub" his words were mumbled but you understood him well enough, you shook your head "don't you dare even think about it" you softly scolded, hand cupping his cheek.

but lewis wasn't in the mood to listen, he wanted to taste you and he had to do it now, the desire simmering within him was pushing him to do so, you were beautiful and he just couldn't get enough of you.

his hands trailed up your thighs, his touch feather light and making a pool of desire simmer in your own belly or was that just the baby getting hungry again, most likely the latter you thought as a giggle escaped your soft lips.

"why do i even bother" you murmured as his fingers started pulling at the band of your panties, eager to get them off and thrown into the nearest corner as soon as humanly possible.

you lifted your hips knowing if you didn't that lewis would simply rip them off you and you couldn't afford to be down yet another pair of panties all because your husband couldn't keep his hands to himself.

you watched as his head disappeared under the skirts of your dress, hands gently parting your thighs to get a better look at your dripping cunt, the way this man could affect you so easily.

he nuzzled against the soft skin of your thigh, you started to get lost in the feeling when the facetime ringtone rang out through the room causing you to jump in your seat, you were so distracted by your god of a husband that you'd basically forgotten you were meant to be facetiming your producer.

"can you keep it down under there" you asked lewis and when he hummed against your skin, you trusted him, bad choice might i say and adjusted your laptop so that both lewis and your belly were out of view before clicking 'accept call'.

"there's the star i know and love" your producer; thomas's voice rang out, you glanced at the screen and smiled as best you could, with lewis currently between your legs, the last thing you wanted to be doing right now was talking to thomas.

"hey tom" you mumbled, voice quiet in order to keep yourself from moaning as lewis kissed at your thighs, slowly inching his way towards your dripping wet cunt with every kiss.

thomas began to ramble about the new album and the last three songs that were needed and while you tried your best to listen, your focus was quickly pulled away from the computer screen and was put into staying quiet when lewis's tongue licked your cunt from bottom to top, nibbling on your clit which he knew would make you squirm.

you nibbled on your bottom lip, struggling to keep your composure as lewis worked his magic between your thighs. you could have sworn you could taste the metallic tang of blood from how hard you were gnawing on your bottom lip in that moment.

thomas's voice began to fade into a distant buzz in your ears. your fingers gripped at the arms of your chair, knuckles turning white as you fought the urge to moan.

lewis's hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he continued his relentless assault on your senses. the thrill of potentially being caught only heightened your arousal. you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your body betraying your attempts to appear normal.

"taste so good" you heard lewis's mumbled voice and if you weren't so focused on trying to remain quiet and not draw attention to what was really going on, on your side of the screen you would've smacked him round the head.

thomas's face on the screen remained oblivious, still chattering away about chord progressions and potential guest artists. "what about olivia, we've been wanting to work together for awhile" you suggested when you managed to calm yourself enough to speak, your suggestion set thomas off on another tangent.

'good' you thought, that should hopefully keep him distracted for a while but you were once again pulled from your thoughts when lewis's tongue swirled around your most sensitive spots, making your thighs tremble around his head.

you were struggling to maintain your composure as lewis continued his ministrations. thomas's voice once again fading into a distant buzz as pleasure coursed through your body.

"that's actually a great idea," you managed to catch thomas say. "maybe we could arrange a writing session next week?" he suggested to which you merely nodded in return.

lewis's hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of your chair, the new angle sent a jolt of electricity up your spine, and you had to disguise the gasp that escaped you as a cough.

"everything okay?" thomas asked, his brow furrowing with concern, he was always concerned when it came to you, sometimes a little too much for lewis's liking.

"peachy" you squeaked, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "just recovering from a bit of a dry throat" you lied, reaching for your water bottle to make it seem real.

lewis's hands tightened on your thighs, he was going to leave bruises that was for sure but knowing your husband as well as you did, he would also make sure to kiss them better because he hated hurting you, even when you insisted you were fine.

you knew you were completely fucked however the moment you felt lewis's tongue slip inside your cunt, desperate to taste every bit of you that he could.

your breath caught in your throat as lewis's tongue explored you hungrily. every flick and swirl sending shock waves of pleasure radiating through your body, your hips began to involuntarily move against his face the best they could with your rounded swollen belly in the way, thank god it was still hidden from the cameras view.

"oh god, bub" you moaned softly, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

he growled quietly in response, the vibrations only intensifying the sensations you were currently feeling. lewis's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he devoured you with single-minded focus, you were his top priority in this moment and his focus would remain entirely on you, until you tipped over the edge of your release.

wave after wave of bliss washed over you as lewis worked you expertly with his mouth, you could feel yourself getting close, teetering on the edge of release, just a little more...

"ah y/n, you still with me" holy fuck!, you'd completely forgotten about your producer currently working on a melody on his side of the computer screen, thomas was the most oblivius man you'd ever known and today it was working in your favor.

the fact that he somehow hadn't noticed what was going on almost made you laugh, you bit your lip hard to stop yet another soft moan from slipping past your lips and despite everything that was happening, you somehow managed to croak out a reply to thomas.

"y-yeah, just concentrating," you stammered, struggling to keep your voice steady, thomas nodded absentmindedly, completely focused on the track he was currently mixing. "what do you think of this bassline?" he asked, pressing play.

a pulsing beat filled the room, providing the perfect cover as lewis picked up his efforts, he wanted thomas to know what was going on but you were not about to let that happen, not on your watch.

"it's good," you gasped out "maybe try... ah speeding it up a bit?"

as thomas began to fiddle with the tempo, you felt yourself rapidly approaching the point of no return, lewis's skilled tongue was soon joined by his equally skilled fingers slipping inside your tight hot cunt as his mouth started to suck and nibble on your clit.

all the emotions and sensations that you were feeling was making your head dizzy, you wanted to end the call with thomas right then and there so that you could focus on lewis and lewis alone but you knew that, that wasn't about to happen unfortunately.

as lewis's movements intensified, you were struggling to maintain your composure, your breath quickened as you fingers tangled in the fabric of your dress skirt and hiked it up and around your hips.

as you did lewis looked up at you with mischievous eyes, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you, his fingers curled inside you, finding that pleasurable spongy spot inside you as his tongue flicked rapidly over your sensitive bud, you swore you could feel lewis smile agaisnt you.

"is everything alright?" thomas asked, finally beginning to notice how quiet you were being on this call compared to all the other video calls you'd shared over these past few months.

"ah.. actually no" you stammered out. "i think i might be coming down with something" you lied to thomas for a second time today.

lewis increased his pace, determined to push you over the edge, you weren't sure how much longer you were going to be able to hold on.

your breath hitched as you tried to maintain your composure, thomas's concerned voice crackled through the phone, "do you need to rest? we can talk later if you're not feeling well."

"n-no, it's okay," you managed to mutter, lewis's fingers dug into your thighs, his tongue and finger's relentless rhythm threatening to unravel you completely.

"are you sure?" thomas pressed, clearly unconvinced. "you sound... strange." panic fluttered in your chest. you couldn't let him suspect what was really happening. "i'm fine, really," you insisted, your voice strained. "just a bit of a headache." you reached for your water once more.

lewis pulled away from your cunt, his fingers slipping out of your warm cunt as well, his breath was hot against the skin of your thighs as he whispered, "tell him you have to go” oh how you prayed thomas hadn't heard that.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at lewis's command. your mind raced, torn between the overwhelming sensations that your husband was making you feel and the need to stay on the video call with thomas and finish the album.

"actually," you gasped out, "i think i might need to lie down for a bit." you had caved, mind you with a husband like lewis, who wouldn't cave when asked.

"of course," thomas replied, his voice laced with genuine concern for you "get some rest. we can catch up tomorrow."

"thanks," you whispered, your finger moved the cursor so it was hovering over the end call button. "i'll text you later." as soon as the call disconnected, a low moan escaped your lips.

lewis looked up at you again "good girl," he murmured, his voice husky with desire for you, his beautiful wife. "now, let me hear you properly."

you finally allowed you restraint crumble and you cried out, no longer having to hide the pleasure coursing through your body. "your a fucking menace lew" you scolded your husband as he went back to work, tongue flicking across your clit with renewed fervor.

lewis chuckled against your sensitive core, the vibrations sending shock waves of pleasure through you once more, his strong hands which you loved oh so much gripped at your thighs, holding you in place as you writhed in your seat.

"you love it," he murmured "no i love you" you replied, fingers tangling in with his twisted braids "my handsome handsome husband"

"don't you dare stop," you gasped, your voice hoarse with need, lewis redoubled his efforts, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just so and that's when you saw stars, your back arched as waves of ecstasy washed over you

"that's it, baby," lewis encouraged, your body trembled as he guided you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, his touch now feather-light and teasing, when your breathing finally steadied, he kissed a trail up your body paying special attention to your bump before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, you swore you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"you're so beautiful when you come undone," he murmured pulling away his voice low and husky, his hands rubbed at your thighs soothingly "i could die between these legs" he chuckled.

"i am so going to write a song about this" you teased with a giggle, hand cupping his cheek as you stared into the brown eyes you loved so much, that could be a pretty could be an interesting way to announce your relationship you thought.

he leaned into your touch, a soft smile playing on his lips. "oh yeah? what's it gonna be called?" he asked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

"hmm," you pondered, pretending to think hard. "how about 'the ballad of lewis's talented tongue'?" you joked.

lewis could help but burst out in laughter, burying his face in your neck, "cheeky," he mumbled against your skin, pressing a soft kiss there. "i like it though but i might have to fight you for the rights to it."

you ran your thumb across his cheek, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. "we could always collaborate," you suggested, your voice softening. "i think we would make beautiful music together."

lewis lifted his head, meeting your gaze with a tender look that made your heart skip. "we already do, love,"

[audliminal]

It's just a game, right?

pt 2

"I just don't see how sitting around is gonna do anything!" Dash argues, face to face with Sam.

"Well, if you have other ideas you're more than welcome to offer them, but we can't just take out the giw. They have more manpower than us, more equipment, and the new agents actually seem to be competent in fights! And we are a bunch of high school students!"

They are all, ostensibly in English Class right now, but even Mr. lancer has forgone the illusion of normal classwork. He assigns books and hands out reading assignments every week, but nobody really cares whether they get turned in or not. The city, after all, has a much bigger problem.

"I don't know! But sitting here-"

"He's not entirely wrong, the longer we wait the more likely they figure it out, just like we all did." As Valerie finishes speaking, the room temperature drops noticeably, and the kids all glance nervously over at Danny who's head hasn't moved from it's spot on his desk. He almost seems dead with how still he is. Beside him Tucker stares at his PDA, the only one who hasn't reacted to the temperature change.

"Should I even ask what you're messing with?" Sam asks, walking over while the others stare nervously at Danny.

"Actually, yeah." Tucker easily shifts so they can both see the webpage displayed on the handmade tech. "I got something through."

"I thought getting stuff through wasn't really the problem?"

"I mean, yeah, they're letting Everything Is Normal posts through, but this wasn't. That. I was, um, kind of fucking around with ciphers and shit? Not saying anything relevant, but just seeing whether they'd flag any old weird shit, you know? And um. I got a video out."

"Okay, but how does that help us?" Valerie asks.

"It helps because if they let a cipher through then means if I encode shit well enough, then it'll also get through."

"But if it's, like, that hard to figure out what it says, then won't it be useless on the outside?"

"The chances of it getting into the hands of someone who could crack it do seem, uh, improbable."

"Not if we stack the deck."

"Wes-"

"No, listen, I know you're all still mad at me, but like. If you can attract a community of codebreakers? Then eventually someone will crack the code on what you need them to!"

"If you have an idea then just fucking say it, Wes," Sam snaps.

"Make an ARG. We can even have like, the base level be completely United to anything real, just make up a story about, i dunno, space travel? And then bury the actual info beneath that. Eventually somebody will crack into the real stuff, and if it's popular enough by then, and the GIW tries to suppress it? That'll be even more suspicious-looking, and just make them dig harder."

"What the fuck is a ARG?" Dash asks, pulling his gaze away from their definitely-just-sleeping classmate.

"Augmented reality game. It's like an unfiction thing. Make a story but the story is interactive and people have to decode shit to figure out what's going on." Tucker glances over to Wes. "And actually not a bad idea. If we all work together, we could probably make something cool."

"You could treat it as a class-wide project." Mr. Lancer says, making everyone jump. "That way I can back you up if anyone starts asking questions."

"Make it about black holes," Danny says, finally pulling himself up from his desk. "We can base it in wormhole theory, and distract the GIW with all the theoretical science."

"What, so like we make videos that seem like they're being sent through a black hole?"

"Fuckin. Sure, why not? As if shit couldn't get any weirder around here."

"Star, please try to refrain from swearing in front of me. I know the situation is - difficult - but I am officially still your teacher."

"Sorry, Lancer."

[cherriesformatt]

sick || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: reader is taking care of sick Matt

warnings: pure fluff

word count: 1k

a/n: how can you be sick and still looking like matt did? I think its only him...

I was excited to see Matt but in the same time I knew something was off when he texted me this morning to come over but than he did not answer anymore. Him and his brothers were doing this challenge that they are separated for a week for the first time and today Nick left for Japan with Madison and Matt was left alone. I was off work now so I decided to drive to his house. I walked in using my finger print on their lock and locked the door back behind me.

“Matt?” I called but no one answered me.

I frowned and walked up the stairs and when I did not see him on the couch or in the kitchen I went to his room. It was all dark so I left the doors open to see.

“Matt?” I asked and I looked at him. He was in the bed wrapped in his comforter.

I came closer and sat down next to him. He was sleeping. His cheeks were flushed and his hair were sticking to his sweaty forehead. I saw an empty bottle of water and termometr on this night stand.

“Oh my poor baby” I whispered.

I didn’t see him for some time now and all I wanted to do now was to snuggle with him and take care of him. I was so sad he got sick on the week he was off work and stuff. It’s like his body knew it could let go.

I took my attention back to him as he started to cough and he quickly sat down and sneezed.

“Hi baby” I sad smiling sadly and have him a tissue from the night stand.

“Y/n what are you doing here? What time is it?” He asked with his very raspy voice.

“It’s past 5, you are sick. Why didn’t you text me? I would bring you stuff” I said.

He looked at me as he cleaned his nose and he put away the used napkin.

“I’m sorry baby, I practically slept the whole day I knew I was going to text you but my phone was too far away. I feel like shit” he said.

“I can’t believe ve I got sick and can’t kiss you right now. I missed you so much” he said with a very sad tone and his eyes dropped.

“Shhh… it’s okay” I came closer and I wrapped my arms around him. He didn’t protest and rested his head on my shoulder.

“Did you take anything for the fever?” I asked and when he shook his head I rolled my eyes.

“Okay. Do you guys even have any medicine at home?” I asked again and he shook his head again.

“Dear God Matt what was your plan? Die from fever and dehydration? “ I rubbed his back.

“You’re all sweaty… you should shower to feel a bit better and I’ll change your sheets and will DoorDash everything we need to make you feel better” I say moving away a bit.

He looked at me and nod. He rested his back in the bed and looked around and grabbed his phone from under all the pillows and he handed it to me.

“Use my DoorDash with my card please” he said and I didn’t want to argue with him looking like that.

I stand up and I offer him my arm to help him get up and when he does he instantly shivers.

“Okay Matty… seat down I’ll go and turn water on so the bathroom will be warm for you” I said and quickly went to do that and than when we was in the shower I got him fresh pj’s and put it in the bathroom for him as well as I change his sheets and order things. I ordered medicine, stuff for making soup and pasta, electrolytes and his favorite drinks and snacks.

I went around living room and kitchen to tidy a bit and put a blanket on the couch.

“You are the best…” he said as he stepped into the living room.

“Go seat on the couch the stuff will be there soon. I’ll make soup and homemade pasta. It will take some time but I know how much you like” I say and he comes closer to me and brings me back to his chest.

“I’m sorry I’m sick….” He whispered.

“Don’t be sorry it’s not like you could control it. It’s all good I want you to rest and let me take care of you without worrying” I kissed his cheek.

“I wish I could kiss you but I don’t want you to get sick” he said moving away.

“ I know….” I smiled and send him on the couch again.

When the stuff got here, he took the meds and I started cooking. He needed to vlog so he did w bit.

“Matt for the love of good put this hoodie back on. How can you have 101 fever and look this good? Also never mind get under the fucking blankets or no soup for you” I said I noticed him shirtless.

“But it’s so hot, this meds broke me. What if I’m dying?” He asked looking at me from the couch.

“You’re not, you are just a man with a cold right now. I know it might seems like dying but you’re not” I said very seriously.

He rolled his eyes on me and got under the blanket. When food was ready we were eating it on the couch and talking a bit about Nick and Chris and his time in Boston when I was telling him about work and what I was doing when he wasn’t here when I’d we talked almost every day.

“Thank you for the food it was so good. I feel so much better now” he said and he lay down with his head in my lap.

“You know what always makes me feel better when I’m sick?” I asked with w smile and started to play with his hair.

“I know, I know. We can watch Harry Potter movies together “ he said.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 10 - A Little Lost | ‘Act II’

word count - 10k

Since the day you left Madrid, Jude had been carrying a small notebook with him everywhere he went. At first, it was just a place to spill his thoughts, a space to process the whirlwind of emotions he didn’t know how to navigate. But as soon as he wrote the first sentence, he realized that every thought, every feeling, was meant for you. The notebook became his way of speaking to you when he couldn’t, of telling you everything he had kept inside for far too long. It started with small things—mundane moments that he would’ve shared with you if you were still in his life. He wrote about away games, detailing flights that were rough with turbulence, knowing you would’ve hated them. You’d always been nervous during flights, especially when the plane shook, and he could so vividly imagine holding your hand, comforting you in that quiet, intimate way only he knew how. He wrote about a brand event he had to attend, the kind you would’ve loved. He pictured you in a stunning dress, his hand instinctively resting on the small of your back as all the people in the room transfixed on your smile and envied him. He missed the way your presence made even the dullest of events shine. But as time passed, the pages of the notebook filled with more than just small anecdotes. They became love letters—confessions he hadn’t been brave enough to say out loud. He wrote about his dreams, both the silly ones and the ones that left him aching. He told you about the night he dreamed of you in his arms, just like before, and how waking up without you felt like losing you all over again. He confessed to arguments with his teammates, like the one he had with Toby, and how in the heat of it all, he had just wanted to call you and vent, knowing you’d calm him down. He wrote about his mum, how she missed you. How she’d bring you up every now and then, asking if you were doing okay, her voice full of concern. His heart would clench every time because he didn’t know. He didn’t know if you were okay, and that uncertainty gnawed at him more than he cared to admit. But most of all, the notebook became a testament to how much he loved you. Page after page, he poured his heart out in ways he never had the courage to do while you were still together. He wrote about how he should have told you how much you meant to him when he had the chance. How he regretted every fight, every misstep, every moment he let you slip away. He described the exact moment he realized he was in love with you—how it hit him like a freight train, and how terrified he was of it. And yet, despite his fear, the feeling never left. If anything, it grew stronger with every passing day, every page he filled. There were entries where he simply wrote your name over and over, as if seeing it on the page made you feel closer to him. Others were longer, detailing his apologies—how sorry he was for everything. For not being brave enough, for letting his insecurities come between you, for pushing you away when all he wanted was to pull you closer. And then, there were the moments when his love for you spilled out uncontrollably, when he wrote about how much he still needed you. How he missed your laughter, your voice, the way your presence made everything feel right. He missed the feeling of your hand in his, the sound of your breathing when you slept next to him, the way you’d nudge him playfully when he teased you. Every small detail that made up your relationship was etched into those pages—his heart laid bare, vulnerable, and raw. Jude carried the notebook like a lifeline, as if each word he wrote to you was a tether, keeping him connected to you in some way. Even though he wasn’t sure if you’d ever read them, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop writing to you, telling you all the things he should have said while you were still his. There was one night, after a particularly bad game, where he sat alone in his hotel room, staring at the notebook. His hands trembled as he picked up the pen, the words spilling out faster than he could think. ‘I love you,’ he wrote, the words stark on the page. 

'I love you more than I know how to explain. And I’m terrified I’ll never get the chance to tell you that now. In my dreams you’re touching my face and asking me if I want to try again.'

It was the truest thing he’d ever written in that book. As the days passed, the notebook filled with his deepest fears, his sincerest apologies, and his undying love. And every time he flipped through the pages, he could feel you there, even though you were so far away. Even though you hadn’t spoken in what felt like forever. It was the only way he knew how to keep you close, even as the distance between you grew wider with every passing day. He just hoped, somehow, some way, that you’d feel it too. That maybe, one day, he could find the courage to give you the notebook, to let you see how much you had always meant to him. But for now, it was his silent confession, his love letter to the one person he couldn’t forget. There were nights when Jude found himself staring at the ceiling, the quiet of his room almost suffocating. He had the notebook nearby, as always, full of the thoughts he wished he could share with you, the words he never got to say. But tonight, it wasn't enough to just write. He missed you physically, emotionally, in every way imaginable. And though he had been longing for the closeness that came with sex, it wasn't just about that. It was the intimacy, the connection, the way your body pressed against his felt like home. The way, in those quiet moments, it was more than just physical-it was how you anchored him, how you made him feel understood and whole. Tonight, though, one memory in particular replayed over and over in his mind.

It was just after your holiday in Greece, the first time you came with him to Madrid. Everything had been easy then, carefree. Nothing had happened yet-none of the arguments, none of the jealousy, none of the heartbreak. In retrospect, Jude realized he should've known even then how special you were to him, but at the time, it had all seemed so light, so effortless. He remembered the day like it was yesterday. The sun had been scorching, golden light spilling over the back garden as you lounged by the pool, the scent of suncream and chlorine in the air. You were glowing in that tiny bikini, the one that had him doing double takes every time you moved. But it wasn't just the way you looked-though you were undeniably stunning-it was the way your laughter filled the space between you. The way it made his heart skip a beat every time you smiled, the kind of smile that reached your eyes and lit up your entire face. You'd been teasing him, like you always did, a playful gleam in your eyes as you suddenly jumped up and ran, your laughter trailing behind you. Jude remembered watching you, a mixture of joy and something deeper-something he couldn't quite put into words yet-bubbling up inside him as he chased after you. The way your skin shimmered in the sunlight, turning a different kind of gold, made his breath catch. He remembered how his hands finally caught your waist, pulling you close, your laughter turning into something softer as you pressed your lips to his neck. It was in that moment, as he held you close by the pool, your bodies slick with water and heat, that Jude had felt something shift inside him. He hadn't known what it was then-maybe he had been too afraid to name it—but he could feel it now. The way your lips on his skin felt like a fire he would gladly burn for. A fire he would willingly let consume him, over and over again. He hadn't realized it then, but it was already happening.

As he lay in bed, Jude dropped his head back into the pillow, the weight of that memory making his chest ache. He wished he could go back to that very moment-to feel the simplicity of it again, to hear your giggle echoing in his back garden as you tried to escape him, only for him to catch you and pull you back into his arms. He wanted to be back there, in the sunshine with you, before everything became so complicated. Before he messed it all up. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, frustrated at the fact that you were so far away. He missed you more than he knew how to express, and on nights like these, he felt that loss in the deepest parts of himself. It wasn't just the physical distance-it was the emotional chasm that had grown between you, a gap he didn't know how to bridge. As the memory faded, Jude reached for the notebook again, flipping to a blank page. He began to write, the pen moving across the paper as he tried to capture that feeling, that moment with you, in words. Maybe one day he'd find a way to share it with you. Maybe one day, you'd know how much that memory meant to him, how much you meant to him. But for now, it was just another secret confession, scrawled in ink, tucked away in the pages of a notebook that was quickly becoming a record of everything he was too late to say. He closed his eyes, the image of you in that bikini, laughing as you ran from him, still fresh in his mind. The ache in his chest lingered, wishing for just one more chance to hold you, to feel your warmth, to make you laugh again. He laid there for a moment and as much his heart was aching… something else began to ache. Jude couldn’t get the image of you in that bikini out of his mind. He couldn’t get the images of him taking it off you out of his mind. 

As the scorching Spanish sun beat down on the pool in the back garden, laughter and desire intertwined.  You found yourself in a playful mood, donning a skimpy bikini that showcased your gorgeous figure—a sight that immediately captured Jude's attention. He stood tall by the pool, his athletic build glistening with a light sheen of sweat. His tanned skin, a golden hue, contrasted beautifully with his deep brown eyes, which at the moment were fixed on you with unapologetic desire. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you teased him, running around the pool deck, your laughter echoing across the garden. The game of cat and mouse began, and Jude, eager to catch his prey, gives chase. You giggled as you darted between the sun loungers, feeling the warmth of the stone beneath your bare feet. His footsteps closed in on you, and just as he reached out to grab you, you let out a playful squeal. Jude's strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you found yourself enveloped in his embrace. He pulled you close, your bodies pressing together, the heat between you intensifying. You wiggled playfully, feeling the hardness of his muscular body against your soft curves. His hands roamed freely, exploring your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"Gotcha, angel!" Jude whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending a delightful tingle down your neck. You squirmed in his grasp, a perfect mix of anticipation and excitement coursing through your veins. He tightened his hold, lifting you effortlessly off the ground and carrying you towards one of the plush pool loungers nearby. Gently, he laid you down, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze sent a jolt of arousal through your body. You reached up, running your hands over his hair, gripping it, pulling him closer for a kiss. His lips claimed yours passionately, and you responded eagerly, your tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm. As the kiss deepened, Jude's hands wandered, He untangled the ties of your bikini top with skilled fingers. He pulled away slightly, his eyes sparkling with lust, and then slowly he moved his lips down your body, using his teeth to untie the knot, sending a thrill through you. Your tits spilled into his waiting hands. He worshiped them with his touch, squeezing and caressing your sensitive nipples. Moans of pleasure escaped your lips as his skilled fingers worked magic, driving you to the brink of ecstasy. He lent down, replacing his fingers with his warm mouth, suckling your nipples and leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. Your hands grasped his shoulders, urging him closer, craving the feeling of his skin against yours. Jude's hands traveled lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your bikini bottoms. He hooked his fingers and slid them down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze and the Madrid air. The cool breeze brushing against your heated skin, causing goosebumps to rise. His name fell from your lips in a hoarse moan the moment you felt his fingers running through your wet folds. With his fingers between your legs now, you were practically dripping for him. You looked at him with your jaw slacked and lidded eyes. He unraveled you with each movement.  His fingers making quick work sinking knuckles deep inside you. His fingers hit the perfect spot inside you with every thrust and curl of their tips. Your back arching uncontrollably. A puddle on the surface of the chair you were laying on formed, your juices running down his hand. The way his breath felt against your sin as he kissed it and the force of his fingers, it all had you rushing towards your orgasm. You whimpered with gasps of air. Your pussy was absolutely soaked but you couldn’t think, your mind had gone blank.  

“Let go, baby. Be a good girl f’me. Cum f’me.” Jude said sternly instructing you and you wasted no time at all. Your orgasm was never ending. He persistently kept his fingers at work inside of you, slowing slightly but drawing your high out.  “Good girl. So fucking good f’me.” Jude cooed as you attempted to hold onto his muscular arm to prevent him from moving any more. He gave way and removed his fingers as he kissed your lips with his before he drew away and forcefully pushed his thumb in between your lips. You willingly opened them for him and looked at him doe eyed and desperate for more. He kept your lips agape as he slowly spit into your mouth before hungrily kissing you again. Jude wrapped your legs around his waist. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your soft core. You arched your back again desperate, inviting him to take what felt rightfully his. With one swift motion, he entered you, filling you with a delicious fullness. The sensations were overwhelming as Jude began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. His eyes never leaving yours, and you could see the raw desire reflected in their depths. He sets a relentless pace, his body pounding into yours, each stroke eliciting moans of pleasure from both of you.

"Oh fuck, Jude," you cried out, your voice hoarse with passion. "Yes, right there!" The pupils in his dark eyes dilated when he felt his cock pulse inside you. Every movement was slow, deep, and intentional. His lips curled into a smug smile hearing that he was doing a good job. You dragged your ankle down his back muscles. He was finding out quickly exactly how to touch you, how to drive you wild. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, ensuring every thrust hits your sweet spot. The sounds of your pleasure fill the outdoor air—moans, gasps, and the wet, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin. As the tension builds, you can feel another orgasm approaching, a tidal wave of sensation ready to crash over you. Jude could sense your impending release and quickened his pace, his own breath becoming ragged.

"Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice thick with lust. You moaned pulling him down to you more by the back of his neck dragging your nails harshly down his muscular back. He rested his forehead against yours sweetly as he continued to rail into you.  “Cum one more time f’me baby. Feels so good. Doing so well f’me.” He whispered between the lewd sounds of your squelching pussy. His thrusts sped up, rolling his hips into you as he chased his own orgasm. Your body tightened around him, and you cried out his name as the waves of pleasure washed over you once more. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you rode out the pulsating orgasm, your body trembling with its intensity. He thrusted harder, faster, his eyes rolling back as he surrendered to the bliss. He sunk his teeth into his perfect lower lip. You silently begged him to cum. His head tilted back. With a final powerful stroke, he emptied himself deep within you. Ropes of his cum filled the velvety inside of your pussy. He pumped you full gradually and slowly stilling. Your pussy continued to flutter as you panted beneath him. Your chest rising and falling. He softly stroked your hair and gently kissed you. “Did so good f’me.” He breathed, his voice filled with admiration. You smiled breathlessly as he kissed you again in a way that Jude prayed you could feel just how much he adored you with each one. In the aftermath of your passion by the pool, Jude collapsed onto the small space on the lounger, moving you to be on top of him now, both of you sweaty and satiated, keeping your bodies intertwined. You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

As you stood, fingers grazing over the delicate fabric on the rack inside the department store, you let out a heavy sigh. The weight in your chest felt unbearable, and the artificial high of retail therapy wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. You thought the expensive price tags and shiny new outfits would mask the ache, but instead, it all felt hollow.Winnie came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist in a gentle hug. She giggled softly, trying to lift your spirits. 

"At least you'll have an amazing top to wear when you're ready to get back out there," she teased lightly. But the words, meant to comfort, only made you feel worse. Your eyes welled with tears, and you sniffled, turning away from the clothes.

"I don’t want to get back out there, Win," you whispered, voice trembling. "I don’t want to show off for anyone else. I don’t want any other eyes on me… it’s not the same." You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly brushing it away before it could fall. Winnie turned you gently, her face softening in concern.

“Hey, it’s okay to feel that. You’re hurting, and no amount of shopping is gonna fix that.” You sighed, blinking back more tears, your throat tight. 

"I just… I only want to look good for him. Jude. He’s the only one who made me feel alive, you know? I used to get dressed up and know he’d look at me like I was the only person in the room. Now… I don’t feel like that anymore. I feel dull, like nothing will ever be the same without him."  Your hand fell from the hanger, the top you were about to buy suddenly meaningless. Shopping couldn’t fill the void Jude left behind, no matter how many racks you combed through. Winnie squeezed you tighter, trying to ground you as your words hung heavy between you. She rested her chin on your shoulder, feeling your pain as if it were her own.

 “I know, babe,” she whispered, trying to soothe you. “It’s okay to feel this way, you know. You don’t have to be ready to move on. It’s okay if all you want is him.” You shook your head, blinking back more tears as you stared blankly at the clothes in front of you, the vibrant fabrics and trendy designs suddenly feeling meaningless.

 “I feel so stupid,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I should be mad, right? I should be out there, showing him what he’s missing, living my best life. But I can’t. I just… I can’t.” Winnie turned you around in her arms, forcing you to look at her.

“You’re definitely not stupid. You’re in love. That’s not something you just get over in a snap. And you’re allowed to feel how you feel, even if it’s messy or complicated.” You sniffled, biting your lip as your eyes darted to the ground.

“But it’s more than that, Win. I wish I wanted to go out, find someone else, let some random guy sweep me off my feet, make Jude jealous. Hell, I wish I wanted to go fuck someone else but I don’t. I really don’t. The thought of someone else… It makes me sick. The idea of anyone touching me the way Jude did… it’s not even a comparison.”  Your voice cracked as the weight of your feelings pressed harder on your chest. “I tried that. I just want him,” you admitted, your heart breaking with every word. “I want to be in his bed, wearing his t-shirts, listening to him laugh at something stupid I said. I don’t want to go out and meet anyone new. I don’t want to pretend like I’m okay. I just want… him.”  Winnie sighed, her face soft with sympathy as she watched the tears finally fall. 

“I get it. I do. And I wish I could say something to make it all better, but I can’t. Only time will help… or maybe Jude will come to his senses and fix this… would you want him to?” She paused, her eyes searching yours, as if she was trying to find some glimmer of hope within you. You pouted at her, giving her the obvious answer that of course you did.  “Well, until then, you’ve got me. And we’ll get through this together, okay?” You nodded weakly, but the ache in your chest didn’t lessen. You pulled away from Winnie slightly, looking around the store, your heart heavy. 

“I just don’t get it, you know? I used to love coming to Bergdorfs. I used to get so excited to find something new, to go out and show it off. But now… now it feels like none of it matters.” You ran your fingers over a top you had been eyeing earlier, the fabric soft beneath your fingertips, but it didn’t bring you the same joy it once would have. “I don’t even want this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Winnie. “I know I sound dramatic but none of it means anything without him. What’s the point of getting dressed up or going out if he’s not there to see it? If he’s not the one taking it off at the end of the night?” Winnie’s arms wrapped around you again, tighter this time, as if she could shield you from the pain with her embrace. 

“You don’t have to do it for anyone else,” she murmured. “If you don’t want to go out, don’t. If you don’t want to move on right now, don’t force it. It’s okay to miss him, and it’s okay to still want him. But you have to take care of yourself, too. Even if it’s hard.” You sighed heavily, the exhaustion of everything catching up with you.

“I’m trying,” you said softly. “But it’s like… suddenly, New York isn’t home anymore. Nothing feels like home without him. The city feels empty, cold. And I’ve never felt so far away from him… from myself.”  Your voice cracked again, and Winnie’s hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re not far from yourself,” she said gently. “You’re just hurting. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to grieve this, to feel lost. But you’ll find your way back. Whether that’s with Jude or without him, I know you will.” Her words brought a small comfort, but the ache in your chest remained.

“It just doesn’t feel like home without him,” you repeated, more to yourself. “He is my home, and now I don’t even know where I am anymore.” Winnie pulled you in tighter, her heart breaking for you.

 “I know, babe. But we’ll figure it out. Whether that means getting back to him or finding your own way again. I’m here, and we’ll figure it out.” For a moment, you just stood there, holding onto her, the weight of your heartbreak pressing down on you. You wanted to believe her, that you’d find your way back to yourself, but right now, all you could think about was how much you missed Jude. How much you still loved him, even after everything. You sighed again, pulling away from Winnie and running a hand through your hair.

 “I don’t want to meet anyone else, Win. I don’t want to move on. I just want him.” Winnie nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. 

“I know. And that’s okay. You don’t have to move on. But maybe… maybe you should tell him that.” She sympathetically smiled at you. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, the black sheer lace dress you had bought on a whim clinging to your body like a whisper. You could see your underwear beneath the fabric, and you almost laughed at how absurd this all felt. Yet, you couldn’t help but indulge in the fantasy for a moment, wondering what it would be like if you did go to Aurelian’s party. The new clothes from your shopping spree with Winnie sat scattered around you in your wardrobe, a reminder of how hard you were trying to distract yourself. An hour and half a bottle of Dom Pérignon later, you were sitting on the floor of your wardrobe, staring at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. The bubbly had loosened something in you, making you braver—or more reckless, depending on how you looked at it. Without thinking too much about it, you picked up your phone and shot off a flirty text to Aurelian, switching to French. 

‘Qu'est-ce que je suis censée porter à ta fête si je viens? Quoi qu'il en soit, je me sens déjà un peu sous-dressée…’ [What am I supposed to wear to your party if I come? Though, I already feel a little underdressed]

You pressed send before you could stop yourself. Your heart raced as you waited for a reply, feeling a strange mix of excitement and guilt swirl in your chest. When Aurelian’s response finally came through, you bit your lip as you read it, his words making your cheeks warm. 

‘Je ne t'ai jamais vue sans être magnifique. Je suis presque sûr que ce n'est pas les vêtements qui comptent…’ [I’ve never seen you look anything but magnificent. I’m pretty sure it’s not the clothes that matter.]

His implication was clear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You found yourself smiling at his smooth compliment, your heart beating a little faster. You could feel the tension in the air between you, even through a phone screen, and for a moment, you wondered if you should let yourself lean into it.  Aurelian's next message popped up with an innocently enough question. 

 ‘Alors, à quoi pensais-tu?’ [So, what were you thinking?]

You stared at the text, the decision looming large before you. You could send him a photo right now—show him the drunken, seductive mess you were in this dress, the dress you probably wouldn’t have worn for anyone but Jude in the past. A part of you wanted to flirt, to let Aurelian see you this way, to forget for just a moment how much you missed Jude. 

But as you sat there, the phone still in your hand, you sighed. You couldn't shake the ache inside you, the ache that had nothing to do with Aurelian. It was Jude who filled your thoughts, Jude who made your heart race when you sent those types of flirty, suggestive photos. Jude who you were still in love with, even if it hurt like hell.You let your phone drop beside you, not replying to Aurelian’s message. The thought of sending that picture, or even entertaining the idea of someone else, just didn’t feel right. It didn’t fill the void you were hoping it would. It only reminded you of what you were missing—what you still wanted, even though you had tried to convince yourself otherwise. With a heavy sigh, you rested your head against the a cabinet drawer, the sheer dress now feeling more like a reminder of the distance between where you were and where you wanted to be. You weren’t ready to move on. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

You were sitting on your couch, half-watching the cityscape outside your window mindlessly when your phone rang. It was your mum. You answered with a smile, but the moment she mentioned your dad had watched the Madrid match, your stomach twisted in knots. 

"He was so excited, you know? Your dad, watching the game. And then... well, I’ve been feeling like I’m keeping something from him," she said softly but you could almost hear her smile through the phone. "I mean, about you and Jude." You froze, your throat tightening. 

"Mum, we’re not... we’re not seeing each other anymore." You sheepishly admitted hating each word as it came out of your mouth.  

"What do you mean? I thought—" There was a pause on the other end of the line, the confusion hanging in the air like a weight. 

"It’s over," you said quickly, the words feeling foreign, like they didn’t belong to you. "I ended it." With every follow-up question she asked, you felt your resolve crumbling, the walls you had built up to protect yourself beginning to crack. And then, as you tried to explain, your voice broke, a sob you hadn’t expected rising in your chest. Tears slipped from your eyes, and it was like you couldn’t stop them once they started. You never cried, not like this, not with your mum. The moment she heard the hitch in your voice, her tone shifted. She dropped into the familiar comfort of French, her voice soft and maternal. 

"Ma chérie, oh non, mon bébé, ne pleure pas. C’est bon, je suis là. Papa et moi, nous sommes là pour toi. Viens nous voir, viens à Paris.” [My darling, oh no, my baby, don’t cry. It’s okay, I’m here. Dad and I, we're here for you. Come see us, come to Paris.] Her words wrapped around you like a blanket, but instead of comforting you, they made the ache worse. You cried harder, the sobs tearing out of you, unexpected and overwhelming. There was something about her offer, the thought of going back to Paris with a broken heart, that made the hurt feel even sharper. Paris had always been your sanctuary, your favorite place on earth. You didn’t want to taint it with the sadness that now clung to you like a second skin. The idea of walking those familiar streets, eating at your favorite cafés, all while carrying the weight of your broken heart—it was unbearable.

"I... I don’t think I can, Mum," you choked out between sobs. "I don’t want to go to Paris like this. I really don’t want to ruin it." You muttered.

"Rien ne peut ruiner Paris pour toi, ma chérie.” [Nothing can ruin Paris for you, my darling.] She soothed, her voice soft and steady. "Paris misses you almost as much as we do." But you shook your head, even though she couldn’t see it.

"I feel so lost. I know I haven’t known him for that long but I don’t even know who I am without him anymore. And if I go to Paris like this, I’m scared it’ll never be the same again.” 

“Tu es forte, mon amour. Plus forte que tu ne le penses. Et peu importe ce que tu ressens maintenant, tu retrouveras ton chemin. Come to Paris. We’ll help you heal.” [You are strong, my love. Stronger than you think. And no matter how you feel now, you will find your way back. Come to Paris. We’ll help you heal.] Her words were like balm on a wound, but it didn’t stop the fear from gnawing at you. You hadn’t realized how deep this heartbreak had cut, how much it had seeped into every part of your life. Even the thought of Paris, a place you’d always associated with joy and love, felt tainted now. 

"I just... I don’t know how to do this, Mum. I don’t know how to move on." You wrapped your arms around yourself, the tears slowing but your chest still heavy. Telling your mum you were hurting made you feel like a little girl. 

"Tu n’as pas à savoir maintenant. C’est pour ça qu’on est là. Come to Paris, ma chérie. Papa et moi, on s’occupera de toi." [You don’t have to know right now. That’s why we’re here. Come to Paris, my darling. Dad and I will take care of you.] You cried quietly as she continued to console you, her words soft and loving, trying to bring you comfort in a moment where comfort felt impossible. You knew she was right, that eventually, you’d have to find your way back to yourself. But right now, in the middle of the heartache, it felt like you were drifting, lost and untethered.

After what felt like your and Jude’s denouement you were struggling with the overwhelming weight of your emotions crush your resolve. You couldn’t do this alone—not anymore. The only person you could think or want to call was Whitney. Whitney, who had always been there for you, who understood the unique challenges of loving an English footballer, a man with a similar life as Jude. With trembling hands, you dialed her number.

“Helllooo” Whitney sang. “What’s up?” When Whitney picked up, her voice was warm and familiar, instantly calming some of your anxiety. But you couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped you. 

“Whit… can I come stay with you? Please? Whit…” You whimpered as you began to bawl.

“Of course, you can. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” The concern in Whitney’s voice was immediate. You tried to gather herself, but the tears kept coming. 

“I just… I can’t be here. I need to get away. I need to be somewhere safe. I can’t be alone like this.” You wept as your whole body shook of fear and heartbreak.

“Don’t worry about anything,” Whitney assured you. “Just get on the next flight over here. Come be with me. Trent and I are here for you always.” Whitney sympathetically told you. 

By the time you arrived at Trent and Whitney’s house, you were exhausted—emotionally, physically, completely drained. You stood at the doorstep, your heart heavy as you padded in the lock code Whitney gave you. As you opened the door, the alarm bell rang through their massive home that was filled to the brim with love and warmth that made you want to cry upon entry. The other thing that made you want to cry was their sweet little two year old girl, Teddy running towards you. Her bare feet pitter pattering on the flooring.

“Y/N!” Teddy exclaimed, her tiny face lighting up with pure joy. “Miss! Missed!” She giggled as the dimples in her cheeks sank.  You felt your heart swell at the sight of this little girl you loved so much. You dropped to your knees and scooped Teddy up into a tight hug, letting the warmth of the embrace soothe you for a moment. But then, the tears came again, unbidden and unstoppable. Trent appeared at the door next, concern etched on his face. He watched as you clung to his daughter, tears streaming down your cheeks. Without a word, he walked over and gently lifted Teddy from your arms. He kissed your temple softly, offering silent comfort.

“It’s okay,” Trent murmured, holding Teddy close as she babbled nonsense about missing you happily in his arms. “Whatever’s going on. You’re gonna be alright.” He cooed. 

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” Whitney said softly, leading you into the cozy living room after she appeared at your side, her arm wrapping around your shoulders. You settled on the couch, and Whitney handed you a glass of wine. “Talk to me,” Whitney urged gently. “Tell me what’s going on.” You took a shaky breath, staring into the wine glass as if it held all the answers. You knew you needed to talk, to let it all out—but the words felt stuck in your throat. Whitney waited patiently, her presence a steady, calming force. 

“I messed everything up, Whit. I tried to protect myself, and I ended up pushing him away. I don’t know what to do.” You whimpered. Finally, you looked up, your voice trembling. Whitney reached out, placing a comforting hand on your knee. 

“I hardly think you messed everything up. He cares so much about you. I’m here to listen so let’s start from the beginning,” she said softly. “I’m here for you, Y/N. Whatever it is, whatever is best for you, we’ll figure it out together.” As the night went on, you poured out your heart, the tears falling freely as you recounted everything that had happened with Jude. All the things Whitney already knew, all the things Whitney didn’t. All of it, dirty and otherwise. She listened, offering support and understanding in a way only she could. The wine helped to dull the edges of your pain, but it was the kindness and warmth of Whitney and her little family that truly began to soothe the deep ache inside you. After a long, emotional conversation, Whitney noticed your exhaustion weighing heavily on you. But she also knew that you needed more than just one person to lean on right now. With a reassuring smile, Whitney pulled out her phone.

“I think it’s time to bring in another opinion. It’s only right,” Whitney said, giving you a wink as she tapped on her screen. Moments later, the familiar face of Winnie appeared on the screen. Winnie’s bright smile greeting you with her usual energy. 

“Wow, thanks for the invite! I didn’t know you were going over Y/N.” Winnie teased seeing you and Lauren on the same couch but then she paused, taken aback by the expressions on your faces. “What’s going on? Look like you’ve had a good cry.” She asked a bit cautiously.  You managed a small smile as Whitney explained the progression of your situation. Winnie listened intently, her face softening with empathy as the story unfolded. She was rambunctious and fun, but she also had a deep well of understanding that made her the perfect person to talk to when things got heavy. After that night at the club, Winnie had been there for you. Both of these girls always were.

“So let me just recap here.,” Winnie said, leaning closer to the camera as if she could step through the screen to be with you. “You and Jude are head over heels for each other, but you’re both too scared to admit it, so you’re pushing each other away, sleeping with other people and then just not talking about it?” Winnie summarized the situation a bit too bluntly. 

“Win… they’re in love with each other.”  Whitney rebuffed. “Sure, Jude’s been fucking stupid but Y/N now has created distance… rightfully so by the way.” Whitney turned to you, squeezing your leg. “Problem is, now, there’s a chasm they don’t know what to do with. Y/N is trying to weigh what to do.” Whitney sadly smiled. 

“What’s gonna hurt less.” Winnie responded. “But…” Winnie piped up again. “I mean… a little pain isn’t the worst thing in the world. It’s horrible but on the other side of it... I think maybe an in person conversation, if you can manage it might be good.”

“I agree. And then if the direction turns you get to decide. You get to call it. You clearly love each other and saying it over the phone just isn’t right. Not when it’s real love.” Whitney ever the romantic cooed. You blushed at the ideas, nodding hesitantly, trying to keep your composure. 

“I really love him… I think.” You pouted at them. Feeling not much better about Jude specifically but much better talking with them. “I’m such a fucking sap now. Whitney, you did this to me.” You whined falling into her lap dramatically. Both girls giggled as you dragged yourself to sit back up.  

“Love is amazing!” Whitney sang kissing your forehead. She had no quam introducing you and Jude. She thought love was great. You usually watched Whitney’s relationship from a distance, thinking it was crazy she was down so bad for a man but now you understood her more than ever. And at the moment you envied her happy relationship more than ever. 

“The make up sex will be amazing!!” Winnie added, mocking Whitney’s tone. Whitney chuckled, shaking her head. Before you could respond, Teddy came bounding into the room, her little feet pattering against the floor.

 “Mama!” she called out, her eyes lighting up as she spotted Whitney. She climbed up onto the couch clumsily, nestling herself into Whitney’s lap, and wrapped her tiny arms around her mother’s neck. Whitney kissed Teddy’s cheek, holding her close as she continued the conversation.

“It’s not easy, Y/N. But pushing him away because you’re scared will only hurt you both more.” You and her both exchanged sad smiles. Teddy let go on Whitney and clumsily flopped onto your lap giving your thigh a hug smushing her face against your leg. She could sense your sadness and even though she probably couldn’t understand why, her silly hug did more than she knew. Just after, Trent appeared in the doorway, looking slightly sheepish. “Sorry, ladies,” he said, running a hand over his hair. “She slipped away from me. She’s quick y’know.” He laughed. You smiled at the sight of Trent, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the normalcy of the scene. 

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice softer now. “I could use all the cuddles I can get.” You cooed. Trent chuckled, giving a quick hello to Winnie and then Teddy a playful nudge before scooping her up. Whitney gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Trent plopped onto another seat in the room with Teddy, the two of them falling into their own little conversation. 

“You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” she said softly. “But you should be honest with yourself about how you feel, you should ask him point blank how he feels, you deserve someone who will love you fearlessly. Not all this bullshit he’s been doing. At the end of it all, do what is right for your heart, your peace. Just please take care of this girl because she means a lot to me.” Whitney smiled as she pinched at your waist.  Winnie nodded on the screen in agreement, her expression serious and stoic. 

“Exactly. We’re here for you, Y/N. Whatever you decide, you’re not alone in this but also don’t pretend cheap navy polyester blend sheets are ever going to make you feel the way white Italian made Frette sateen do.” She meant it metaphorically but maybe seriously as well about bedroom antics. Whitney shrugged partly agreeing about the bed linen comment. You were a group of three, well four including Teddy, very spoiled girls. You looked at the two sisters and then at Teddy, who was now contentedly playing with the hem of Trent’s top. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel so lost. After the conversation with Winnie wrapped up, Whitney decided it was time to shift the mood to something lighter. 

“You know what we need? A Chinese,” she declared, already pulling up the menu on her phone. 

“Whit, baby, you know I can’t have that—I’m in season.” Trent, now lounging comfortably in the corner of the couch with Teddy perched on his lap, raised an eyebrow in protest.

“You’ll survive. Y/N likes the place we order from here so that’s what we’re getting.” Whitney shot him a playful but firm look. Trent sighed, defeated, while Teddy giggled at her father’s expense. 

“Dada no hungry?” Teddy chirped asking Trent, grabbing at his shirt. “Like ‘neese.” She giggled, unable to properly pronounce ‘chinese’ just yet.

“Nah, baby bear. I’m very hungry!” Trent corrected her as he dramatically squeezed Teddy tight to him, locking her in place as he began to nom on her chubby cheek teasingly as she squealed and giggled. You sighed hearing Trent call Teddy his little nickname, a two year olds giggle booming in the room, your best friend watching her family. You felt so lonely in a moment when you couldn’t have been less alone. Soon enough, the smell of takeout filled the house. You gathered around their dining table. Trent’s eyes lingered longingly on the orange chicken, but he dutifully stuck to his more athlete-friendly meal, occasionally sneaking glances at everyone else’s plates.

“Mama, no tanks.” Teddy, still on Trent’s lap, scrunched her nose at the sight of broccoli on her plate. It was simply genetics but there was something funny about watching both Trent, over orange chicken, and Teddy, over broccoli, give Whitney their best identical puppy dog eyes pleading for her approval. 

“Ted, baby,  gotta eat those please. Just a few bites for me, cute girl.” Whitney replied, not missing a beat. “You… “ her eyes flashed to Trent. “Learn some self control. Eat your grilled chicken and set an example for your daughter.”  She giggled. “Eat your broccoli.” She smirked, moving a container more towards them. With a dramatic sigh, both Teddy and Trent picked up a piece of broccoli and nibbled at it. As you ate, the conversation flowed naturally, drifting back to the earlier topic. Trent, who had been mostly quiet regarding the Jude situation, finally chimed in.

“Look, Y/N, I get it. Jude’s been a…” He paused momentarily to cover Teddy’s ears. “He’s been a fucking idiot because he’s scared, just like you are. But being scared doesn’t mean you should just give up on the whole relationship.” He cooed. Your fork paused halfway to your mouth, and you looked at Trent, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. 

“T, Jude and I aren’t even in a relationship. We’re just… I don’t even know what we are. And at the moment really nothing at all.”  You sighed, upset that it wasn’t like you were repairing something with a boyfriend. Jude was nothing to you because you never got to labels and that was the problem. Trent leaned forward slightly, his expression serious but kind. 

“You say that and I know that Jude should’ve fixed exactly that but you’re more than just nothing, that’s for sure. But if you just push it all away and ignore what you want, you’re never going to know what it could be.” He softly smiled at you. Whitney nodded in agreement, giving you a similar gentle smile. 

“I don’t want to pile on because I know it’s hard but T’s right, you know. You can’t let fear control this. Jude should be the one to fix it but if it’s something you want it’s worth maybe at least asking one more time.” Whitney pouted a bit being a hopeless romantic. You took a deep breath, letting their words sink in. You knew they were right, but that didn’t make it any easier. Still, there was something comforting about the way you all sat around the table, talking through the mess of emotions that had been haunting you for weeks. When you finished your meal, you felt a little lighter, as if the weight of your fears had been shared among you all. Teddy, after finally eating her vegetables, grinned triumphantly as Whitney handed her a small bowl of ice cream.

“See? Not so bad. You and Daddy are so picky sometimes ” Whitney teased, running her hand over Trent’s head whilst pressing a kiss to Teddy’s hair. You smiled, feeling a warmth you hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to navigate this confusing thing with Jude. And if you stumbled along the way, at least you knew you had people who would catch you.  As the evening wound down, Whitney guided you to the guest room, a comforting hand on your back. You carried Teddy, who insisted on following you two, her tiny arms wrapped around your neck. When you reached the room, you gently placed Teddy down before flopping onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. The weight of the day, the emotions, and the uncertainty all seemed to catch up with you at once. But the despair was short-lived as Teddy, ever the little bundle of joy, clambered up onto the bed beside you, mimicking your flop with a giggle. The sound was infectious, and despite yourself, you found a smile breaking through. You leaned over and planted a few playful kisses on Teddy’s cheeks, each one drawing more giggles from the little girl. It was moments like these that made everything feel a bit more manageable. Whitney sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a sympathetic smile. She knew you were still hurting, still conflicted, but she also knew that you needed to confront those feelings head-on. 

“You should talk to Jude, Y/N,” Whitney said softly, her tone gentle but insistent. Hearing Jude’s name, Teddy’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Mama, miss Judey!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and innocent, free of the complications that you were grappling with. Your heart clenched a little at Teddy’s words. You hugged Teddy close, pressing another kiss to her cheek. 

“Me too, Ted. Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Whitney watched you, her heart aching for her friend but also hopeful that this might be the push you needed.

“He misses you too, Y/N. Don’t let this slip away without at least trying to fight for it.” You nodded slowly, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say to Jude, all the things you were too afraid to admit even to yourself. But as you lay there with Teddy cuddled up beside you, you knew that Whitney was right. It was time to stop running, time to face whatever this thing with Jude was—no matter how terrifying it might be. You laid in bed, the darkness of the room doing little to quiet your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, thoughts of Jude filled your head—his smile, his laugh, the way he made you feel both terrified and alive all at once. You watched the hours tick by, each passing minute only intensifying the ache in your chest. You missed him, more than you wanted to admit. 

You accompanied Whitney to one of Trent’s Liverpool matches. After the game, you two along with Trent and his brother, Marcel went out for dinner. You didn’t feel happy per se but you felt relaxed and just comforted by their normalcy and the layer of wine rushing through your system definitely helped lighten your mood. As Whitney excused herself to the bathroom and a fan engaged Trent in conversation, you felt a sudden charge of freedom wash over you. It was like a door had opened, offering a brief moment to do something reckless. Marcel's arm had found its way around your shoulders, and what started as an innocent gesture quickly shifted into something more intense, at least in your mind. In Marcel’s mind it was more in a platonic friend way steadying your drunk movements. You leaned in closer, feeling the alcohol take hold of your thoughts, pushing boundaries you might not have dared cross otherwise. Your thumb brushed over Marcel's lips, slow and deliberate, tracing the shape of them with a glint in your eye. You were testing the waters, watching for his reaction, letting the thrill of mischief spark through you. Marcel smirked despite himself, recognizing the shift in energy, the subtle tension that had bloomed between you two. His heart raced momentarily, tempted by the familiarity of this dynamic. You had hooked up before, and that memory lingered, pulling at the edges of his resolve.

"You have really nice lips," you murmured, eyes flicking down to them and then back up to his face, the challenge implicit in your voice. Marcel chuckled, his hand gently closing around yours as he pulled it away from his lips.

"Thank you sweetheart," he said, with a soft laugh.His tone light but cautious. "They get the job done." He cooed. You giggled, flashing your eyes down to his lips again, emboldened by his response. The banter felt dangerous, electric. There was a fire in your belly that only seemed to grow as you watched his smirk soften into something more serious. The thrill of pushing the line, seeing how far you could take it, was exhilarating. You felt like you were barreling toward something you couldn't quite control, but instead of stopping, you let yourself teeter closer to the edge. The energy between you two was shifting fast, spiraling into something much more charged. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing the fall would hurt but craving the rush of it anyway. You felt alive in a way you hadn't since things with Jude fell apart, and it felt dangerous, intoxicating.

“I know.” You cooed with a a smug smile. For a split second, you let yourself imagine it—the temptation, the thrill of crossing that line again with Marcel. You were flirting with danger, and a part of you loved the recklessness of it. But Marcel wasn't moving. He hadn't leaned in. He hadn't taken the bait. You could see it in his eyes, the internal battle he was fighting, the temptation wrestling with his conscience. The way his gaze flicked away from yours, the way he gently squeezed your hand as if to ground himself, it all told you he wasn't going to let this go any further. Not tonight. For a moment, you felt the excitement drain, leaving behind a hollow ache. You weren't really after Marcel. You were after the thrill, the distraction from the gnawing emptiness that had been eating away at you since Jude. But as you sat there, staring at Marcel's careful, measured response, you realized this wasn't what you wanted. Not really.

“Lucky you,” he teased, playing along with the joke you started, but there was an undertone of seriousness as his gaze lingered on you a little too long. Marcel’s soft laugh echoed in your ears, his casual response almost distracting you from the sting of rejection you felt coming. You giggled, but the sound was empty, your heart heavy with the weight of what you knew was coming. You sighed, the giggle fading, and pouted without meaning to, feeling childish but unable to stop yourself. The alcohol had lowered your guard, and now, there was nowhere to hide from the vulnerability that was surfacing. Marcel noticed the shift in you, and instead of pulling away, he turned to face you fully. Gently, he lifted your face from where it had been resting against his shoulder, cupping your cheeks with his hands. His touch was soft, tender even, as he looked directly into your eyes. “Listen, it’s not that I wouldn’t,” he began, his voice low but steady. “Or that I’m not interested. You’re gorgeous, and trust me… I hate that I’m saying no. That the right thing is no.” He paused, watching the way your eyes searched his, needing more from him, something to fill the emptiness you’d been carrying. “But you don’t actually want this.” You felt the weight of his words settle over you, sinking in as tears began to form on your lash line. You blinked, trying to hold them back, but it was no use. He was right, of course. Deep down, you knew you didn’t want this. Not really. Marcel wasn’t the person who filled the aching void in your chest. You were after the thrill, the distraction from the gnawing emptiness that had been eating away at you since Jude. But as you sat there, staring at Marcel's careful, measured response, you realized this wasn't what you wanted. Not really. Still, the rejection hurt. Your cheek leaned further into his hand, seeking comfort in his touch. You nodded, unable to form the words to admit the truth aloud, and Marcel’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you took a deep, shaky breath, inhaling the warmth of his embrace. You pulled away from the hug, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. You managed a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes as you glanced up at him. You blinked, the haze clearing just enough for reality to settle back in. You felt a pang of regret. Not for what almost happened, but for the emptiness that made you chase after it in the first place.

“Would you, though? If things were different?” The question slipped out, your drunken state loosening your tongue. It wasn’t a fair question to ask, but you needed to know, needed some kind of validation that you still had ‘it.’ Marcel chuckled softly at first, but then his face grew serious. His eyes darkened, his gaze holding yours as he leaned in closer, his hand sliding down to your waist, his thumb brushing over the bare skin of your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. He whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Y/N… You know the answer.” He smirked. “We’ve lived that answer so trust me…you have no idea,” he said, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. “If things were different, you wouldn’t still be sitting at this table.” The confession sent a rush through you, a sense of relief flooding your system, like a validation you hadn’t realized you needed. It was a reminder that you still had ‘it,’ that you were still desirable. But as the relief settled in, so did something else—a deeper realization. You didn’t want ‘it’ with Marcel. You didn’t want to be here, chasing after validation from someone who wasn’t the person you truly wanted. You wanted Jude. You wanted the warmth of his arms around you, the sound of his voice telling you that you were the only one for him. No matter how good it felt to hear Marcel’s words, they weren’t enough to fill the void. With a sigh, you pulled away from Marcel, giving him a small, grateful smile. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, unsure if you were thanking him for the compliment or for stopping you from making a mistake. Marcel just nodded, his expression soft, understanding. 

“You’ll be okay,” he said quietly. “You’re just... a little lost right now.” And he was right. You were lost, but maybe, just maybe, you were starting to find your way back. As Whitney returned and Trent's conversation ended, the moment dissolved into the background, just another part of the night. But the lingering feeling stayed with you, a reminder of how far away you still felt from the person you used to be-and the person you wanted to be again.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 11 - Go xx

[samandcolbyownme]

I got the itch to write dealer!Sam, so that’s what I’m doing. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mentions of weed, flirting, kissing, rough actions, hair pulling, choking, biting, scratching, oral (f rec), unprotected sex, creampie, filth

Word Count: 2.3k | unedited

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You have a small smile to the man who helped you out of the car, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Not a problem, Miss y/l/n. Enjoy the party.”

You smile and walk up to the door, mumbling to yourself, “I definitely won’t.” You take a deep breath, sighing as you walk through the doors.

This hotel was absolutely breathtaking.

Crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, sculptures incorporated into the ceiling works, it was like you walked out of real life and entered something of the fairytale sorts.

“Champagne, Miss?”

You look up at the guy holding the tray of glasses holding bubbly, and you groan, “Yes, please. Yes.” You take the glass off of the tray and down it within seconds, “Hold on.”

You place the empty glass on the tray and the water raises his brows as you down the second glass, “Do you want the third one or should I just walk away?”

He laughs as you look at him and you smile, laughing softly, “I’ll take the third, please.”

“It’s yours.” He smiles and gives you a nod, “Enjoy your night.” He walks away and you bring the glass up to your lips, sipping it as you move to walk around.

“I thought big parties weren’t your thing?”

You turn around to your friend, Alisha, “They’re not, but you know I can’t turn down an open bar.” You joke, bringing the glass up to your lips.

“You mean, you can’t say no to Sam.” She smirks and shakes her head, “I know you, y/n. You can’t lie to me.”

“Okay.” You roll your eyes, “You got me on that one, but we just friends, you know. He deals me weed and we keep it at that. Easy peasy, lemon squeezey.”

“You’d let him squeeze your lemon if he asked.” She laughs into her glass and you push her, “Oh my god, shut your mouth.”

You take a sip of your drink, “But yes.”

You both laugh and you look around, “Speaking of. I gotta find him. I need to place an order.”

“You’re out already? Didn’t you just see him two days ago?” She raises her brows and you shake your head, “No, no. I want..” you move in, “I want to see if he has anything right now. I’m anxious as fuck being around all of these rich people.”

“Y/n.” She pauses, “You’re a part of these rich people.”

“What? Just because I’m good friends with the son of the people who own this place?”

She nods, “Yeah. Kinda.”

You shake your head, perking up when you see Sam making his way down the steps, “Oh. There he is.” You chug your drink and hand it to Alisha, “Take care of this for me?”

She scoffs at your empty glass in her hand, but takes it anyway, “Just tell him you love him already.”

“Not gonna happen.” You glance back at her as you walk away and smirk, turning to make your way through the crowd.

Sam looks around, doing a double take when he sees you. He smiles and lifts his hand to wave, looking back at the man he’s talking to, “Hey, I’ll find you later.”

You smirk, tilting your head as he walks up to you, “I thought you weren’t coming?”

You shrug, “Changed my mind, I guess.”

He smiles, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, I’ve already had three.” You laugh and he raises his brows, “Already? Didn’t you just get here?”

You laugh, “You know crowded places like this make me anxious.” You look around and back at him as he tilts his head, “Uh huh.”

You step closer, “You um, wanna disappear for a little bit?”

“Y/n y/l/n. Are you trying to avoid this party?” Sam fights back a smirk and you sigh, groaning as you tilt your head back, “Sam.”

“Ask nicely and maybe I’ll consider it.” He smirks and you fight back a smile, “I did ask nicely.”

“Did you?” He squints and tilts his head and you laugh, “Sam. Please.”

“Oh beggin’ me now, huh?” He leans in, “I kinda like that.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

“Do you?” You ask, rolling with the punches, “Cause, I can do a lot more if you help me out.” You look up at him, tilting your head as you bat your lashes.

“If I give this to you, what do I get in return, hmm?”

You could tell he was joking, but you shake your head, letting out a sigh as you speak nothing but the truth, “Maybe you’ll get the confession of being so in love with you that it hurts, or you’ll get me on my knees, your pick.”

His brows flick up and he takes a shaky breath, “I was thinking more along the lines of you won’t leave this party early but goddamn, y/n.” He wraps his arm around your waist, “I’m good with getting both of those options.” He nods, “C’mon.”

You bite your lip as you walk with him, your hand gripping his jacket as he leads you towards the elevator.

“Sam.” A voice calls out, “Where are you going?”

He turns, you still attached to his hips, “Upstairs.”

The man glances at you and he sighs, “You have the toast to make here soon.”

Sam looks at the elevator as the doors open, “Just stall. I’ll be back soon.” He nudges you towards the elevator and walks in behind you.

The doors aren’t even closed yet and your leg is already brought up next to his hip, his hand holding your thigh as his lips attack yours, “So..” he says in between kisses, “You love me, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.” You smile, tilting your head back as he kisses down your neck, “And I promise, it’s not just because you’re my dealer.”

“Oh good.” Sam leans back, brushing hair from your face, “I was hoping it was my charming personality that caught your attention.”

You laugh, “Yeah, that’s one of the reasons.” You pull him back in, moaning lowly as he bites down on your lower lip.

The doors open and he pulls you forward as he walks backwards off of the elevator. He spins, your hand in his as he leads you down the corridor.

“Where are we going?” You ask as you glance over at him.

He looks over at you as he pulls a keycard from his pants pocket, “My penthouse suite.” He smirks, “That a problem?”

You shake your head as he pushes the door open, “Nothing about any of this is a problem.”

You walk in and Sam is right behind you, his hand grabbing yours as he pushes the door closed with the other, “Where are you rushing off to? Thought you wanted something first?”

“Rearranging things is never a problem.” You pull him towards you, your hands sliding up to push his jacket off of his shoulders as he leans in to kiss you.

He pushes his jacket off before his hands find your hips, squeezing as he walks you back into the wall. His hand slides down, pulling the slit of your dress up further, “God, you are so beautiful.”

You smile against his lips, “I came here tonight just for you.”

“I figured.” He chuckles and steps back, “Come on.” He leads you into his room and you raise your brows, “Wow. All of this and just you?”

He wraps his arms around you and sighs, “Yeah, well that’s what happens when the person you like doesn’t say anything to you until now.”

You roll your eyes with a smirk, “My apologies Mr. Golbach.”

“Mhm.” He smiles and reaches up with one hand to cup your cheek before planting a kiss on your lips, “How about you get that dress off now.”

You feel the zipper on the back slide down, revealing your back and you gasp quietly before it drops down to the floor, pooling at your feet.

He walks you back to the bed, his lips trailing up and down your neck before your legs hit the edge, causing you to sit down.

He drops down to his knees, reaching up to pull your panties down your legs. He tosses them down before pushing your knees apart. You lean back onto your elbows, watching as he lifts your one leg over his shoulder.

He dips his head down, his tongue trailing up your slit and you gasp out, your body shifting as you move your arm to lay a hand on his head, “S-Sam!”

He groans against you as his tongue pushes in.

“F-fuck, fuck.” Your head tilts back, moans leaving your lips as Sam move his tongue to your clit. You watch down at him, his eyes on you as your face scrunches with pleasure, “Sam.. Sam..” you pant, “P-please.”

He pulls away, undoing his shirt as quickly as he can before undoing his belt and dropping his dress pants.

You bite your lip as your eyes fixate on the cock online in his boxers, the walls of your pussy clenching around nothing.

You continue to watch as his boxers leave his body and he starts to crawl up the bed as you move up, lying back as his body hovers over yours.

Your hands slide up his arms, legs spreading further apart as you feel the tip of his cock bump against your folds.

He pushes his hips forward, groaning lowly as his cock enters inside.

You tilt your head back more, the nails on your fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders as you let out loud moan after moan.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Sam moans lowly into your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin, “So fucking good.”

Your arms tighten around his neck as you tilt your head up to smash your lips against his.

He swallows your moans with ease, groaning as his thrusts pick up, “Feel good, baby?”

“Yes!” You moan loudly, gasping as you squeeze his cock, “Fuck, yes, yes. So good!”

He slides his hand up, laying it around your throat as he moans into your ear, “takin’ me so well, sweetheart.”

He leans up, hand still on your throat, “Fuck.” He groans as he looks down, watching his cock slip in and out of you, “So fucking hot.”

His eyes move back to your face, head tilting as he watches your eyes roll back with the harder he squeezes.

He bites down onto his lip, tilting his head back before letting go. His lips on hours muffled his groan and you wrap your legs tight around his waist, whining out, “So.. fuuuck, I’m right there, baby.”

Sam sucks a hickey onto your neck, groaning against you as he feels your walls spasm around him. Your limbs holding him tight as your back lifts up off the bed and your moans glide through the room.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck, good girl.”

Your breath hitches and your head snaps back to look at him. He smirks, “Ya like that or something?”

“Coming from you?” You smirk, gasping as his thrusts deeper, “Y-Yes.. a lot.”

He bites down on his lip, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I can give you a lot more if you let me.” He kisses up your jaw and to your lips, swallowing your moans as his thrusts resume.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, moaning out as his grip on your outer thigh grows tighter, “Fuck, fuck, don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

“Goddamn.” Sam groans as he buries his face into your neck, moaning as his cock twitches inside of you. His thrusts slow down, slowly pushing his cum deeper into you.

He presses a few kisses to your neck, moving to your lips before rolling off of you, “So, how about that J now?”

You roll over, “Oh fuck, I forgot all about that.”

“That’s what you wanted first, wasn’t it?” Sam chuckles as he presses a kiss to your forward before getting up.

“I mean, it was, but like I said, I’m not worried about rearranging.” You smirk and sit up, moving to grab your panties and slip them on.

You walk over and watch as he brings the joint to his lips, “Here.” He breathes out, “I’m gonna get redressed.”

You groan before taking a drag, turning to watch him grab his clothes. You exhale the smoke, “We still have to do that?”

He laughs, nodding his head as he slips on his boxers and pants, “Yes, babe. We do. Well, I do. If you want to hang out-“

“No.” You shake your head, “I’m good to go.” You take another hit and smile as you walk over to him. You blow out the smoke, “As long as I’m with you down there, I’ll be good.”

“You can be wherever with me.” He smiles as he takes the joint from your fingers. You smile and watch as he takes a hit before giving it back, “You know..” he blows out the smoke, “You’ll have to pay for this later.”

You bite your lip, “Yeah?” You tilt your head, taking a drag, “What do you want?” You hold it for a few more seconds and exhale as he chuckles, “I’ll leave that up to you.”

He flicks his brows up and pecks your cheek, “Get dressed.”

You hand him back the joint and walk over to grab your dress, “You’ll be paying for this later.” You tease as you slip your dress up your body.

Sam walks over, “Yeah, what do you want?”

You smirk, glancing over your shoulder, “I’ll leave that up to you.”

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Wow okay, idk how I feel about this, I like the ending but idkkkkk let me know. I love you all so much for reading my stuff. You mean the world to me! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[tpwk-formula1]

Daniel Riccardo Sicilian crust Red Sauce Ham Lemonade Mt Dew (dom!reader) Yes Dessert

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

sicilian crust hooking up red sauce rough sex ham "You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" lemonade body worship mt dew dom/sub dessert yes served by Daniel Riccardo

Daniel x FWB! reader

TW - riding, dom(kinda reader), more sweet sex than rough, face sitting, praise

WC - 1600+

Y/N POV

"Danny come here," I tell Daniel when he finally shows back from the Paddock well past 2 in the morning.

I was tired, my body was exhausted but Daniel was wired and needed to be doing something I could tell that much.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" I asked Daniel when he crawled into the bed next to me.

He just shook his head and we fell silent for a few minutes just sitting on our phones decompressing from the long day when he finally spoke up.

"Can I ask you something?" Says Daniel making me up my phone down and give him my full attention.

"Of course always," I reply back softly.

"Can you be in charge?" Daniel asks making me raise a brow slightly in confusion.

"In charge of what Danny?" I ask back.

"Like can you like dom me?" Danny asks softly making me smile and laugh a little.

"Why?"

"Cause I wanna be a pillow princess for a day," Danny replies back making both of us bust out laughing before I finally just shrug my shoulders and agree.

"I mean it seems fun," I tell him softly.

"Strip, now," I say after a couple seconds instantly making the atmosphere in the room change. Daniel was staring at me with his jaw dropped in complete shock at the change in my voice.

"I didn't say stare at me. I said to strip now," I tell him again when he made no effort to start stripping. I gently pushed Daniel's shoulder snapping him out of whatever trance he was in and instantly started stripping into nothing leaving him completely bare on top of the white comforter the hotel had provided.

When Daniel was sprawled out on the bed I pulled off my sleep shirt leaving me in just lacey panties I was planning to wear to bed.

I crawled on top of Daniel's lap and bent down to kiss him a few times muttering a few incoherent words before trailing my kisses down his jaw and neck making sure to hit all his sweet spots.

"You're so good Daniel, you deserve the world," I tell him softly while still placing soft kisses around his chest.

With the way that I was bending down over Daniel's body, I could feel his cock getting harder at the praise making me smirk slightly.

"Already getting hard for me I can feel it," I tease while taking just the tip of my finger and tracing from the tip of his cock down to his balls where I grip them into my hand slightly making Daniel hiss.

"I love the sounds you make," I continue teasing while I slowly start jerking his cock off.

"More, please give me more," Daniel whines making me smirk and shake my head no while still keeping the same slow pace that I know is torturing Daniel.

When Daniel was rock hard and even leaking a little bit of precum I release his cock resulting in Daniel letting out a loud whine in retaliation which just makes me smirk more before I slip my panties off taking a few extra seconds due to the weird angle I was at.

Once my panties where off I crawl next to Daniel's body up to his head where I give him a soft smirk before swinging one of my legs over his head so my soaked core was above him.

"I wanna cum two times and then I'll give you want you want," I tell Daniel making him instantly wrap his arms around my thighs and pulling my down so I was seated right on his mouth. Daniel wastes no time in pulling my clit into his mouth making me let out a loud moan.

I lean down slightly and pull Daniel's cock into my mouth sucking on the tip slightly.

I knew what I was doing to Daniel's cock would not be enough to make him cum which had his hips squirming and bucking trying to get more stimulation.

Daniel slipped two fingers into my tight walls and instantly found my G-spot making me moan around his cock.

While Daniel and I weren't technically lovers and just friends we still explored each other's bodies often. Daniel knew how to make me cum in a matter of minutes and I know how to make Daniel cum in a matter of minutes. It was a stupid little deal we made when we were both horny teenagers and now well into adulthood have continued to be each other's person when we are both single. It was nice not having to find a random man to hook up with when I'm in need. I just had to call my best friend and he would be at the door in a matter of minutes.

"Danny," I gasp when I feel my first orgasm approaching making Daniel speed up just slightly which resulted in me cumming all over his fingers and face.

I knew when I moved from Daniel's body his face would be covered in my slick as he has always been such a messy eater.

"Fuck, I need you now," I groan before climbing off of Daniel's face. Fuck the other orgasm I needed Daniel's cock in me right now.

I climb back into Daniel's lap wasting no time in sinking down his cock and instantly start bouncing. I gave myself no time to adjust not wanting to give Daniel anytime for his brain to process the pleasure.

"Fuck," Daniel groans after a few seconds. He was already breathing fast and gripping at my hips helping me keep up the brutal pace that surely would leave me with a bruised cervix but we both needed this kind of fucking right now.

You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" I tell Daniel with a smirk making his eyes go wide when he realized what I had said to him.

It was one of the first degrading things he had said to me when we were in the early stages of hooking up and I instantly slapped him in the face not understanding how degrading worked. It was something we had talked about over the years laughing slightly but now in this moment, I could see Daniel's eyes darken in pure lust loving every moment of being my bitch.

"Fuck," Daniel groans, while gripping onto my hips in a bruising fashion. I loved riding Daniel's cock, it was one of the angles that made me feel Daniel all over. Like the way his cock hits all the right places over and over again.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Daniel groans while trying to pull me off his cock to blow his load but I just push his hands away and lean down on Daniel's chest before moving my hips in short but fast thrusts making Daniel whine and still try to push me away but I stayed firm in my position.

"Get up, I'm gonna-" But before Daniel can even finish his sentence he starts cumming deep into my pussy making me start cumming just from the feeling of his cum hitting the walls of my pussy.

When I started cumming I stopped thrusting my hips but made sure to keep rocking my hips to help ride both Daniel and I's orgasms out.

"Fuck, I came in you," Daniel says when we both come down from our highs.

"Are you clean?" I ask a question I already know the answer to.

"Yes, you know this," Daniel replies back while turning on his side and pulling me to his chest so we can cuddle.

"Then it's not an issue," I say simply with a shrug. Daniel just shook his head in confusion but not really question it any further. When we got into adulthood we stopped using protection as much but Daniel had always pulled out per my request but I started birth control about a year ago for other reasons and I finally feel like I've been taking it long enough to feel somewhat okay.

"Fuck, I'm gonna wanna cum in you every time now," Daniel says with a smirk making me laugh slightly.

"That's fine, I'm on birth control now," I tell Daniel making me look at me with pure shock. It had been something I refused to take for years scared of it ruining my body but after being diagnosed with PCOS I knew I needed a bit of help.

"Well, whatever you think is best for your body I will always support," Daniel tells me softly before pulling me in for a slow kiss.

"Thank you," Daniel says after a few seconds of silence.

"For?" I ask back a little confused. Daniel had never once thanked me for sex so I was confused why he would start over a decade later.

"For making life a little easier to live, and being the best kind of distraction," he replied back honestly making me smile and wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me.

"You've always been my favorite distraction. And truthfully I loved every moment of tonight," I reply back making Daniel smile.

"I could tell, I'm definitely gonna let you take over more often, love the way your pussy grips my cock when you ride me," Daniel replies back making my face heat.

"Go on a date with me," I tell Daniel making his head shoot up but a smile across his face.

"I know you were in charge tonight but I wanted to ask you out first," Daniel said with a joking whine laced in his voice.

"Beat ya to it! you had all these years to ask," I reply back with a smile.

"But yes, I will go on a date with you. A real one though, one with the intention of making you more than just my best friend I fuck almost daily," Daniel said.

"Good, cause I don't think I can keep seeing you date shitty woman," I reply back honestly making Daniel smile and pull me in a bit tighter.

[mentalmeles]

Well. While the brain rot has me, I wanna talk about some lines in ‘Trust Love’ that have been bothering me lately. Mostly how they blatantly reference Penny and how she just might return once more.

Yes, it’s that kind of Penny posting. If you don’t subscribe to the Penny 3.0 theory or think she should stay dead, please carry on and let me have my silly little thoughts in peace. Also this is 100% Nuts and Dolts propaganda. I will not apologize.

ANYWAY! Onto the lyrics!

Right now, your hopes are shattered / Just pointless ever after

This line obviously talks about the loss of hope. Penny, time and again, has been the character to symbolize hope. The most obvious time this has been done was during Jinxy’s auction in Volume 9.

Ruby is inexplicably drawn to the jade marionette, which we all know turns out to be one of Penny’s swords. (And ofc let’s not forget that weapons are considered an extension of their owners in this world.)

Without knowing why, Ruby wants it and tries to wager for it. But Jinxy asks for something in particular—something Ruby has lost.

“Enough hope to fill [a] jar.”

I also want to point out that the pov making it look like the jade marionette is fitting inside the jar as well as the star charm tied around the top are not at all coincidences. This is the show telling us point blank that Penny is the personification of hope. Or at least Ruby’s hope.

But Ruby just lost her. She has no hope left.

But in time, you'll find / Through love, your power just shines

(I felt the need to put this gif here since it is exactly what plays during these lines in the Volume 7 intro, so let’s just sit and think about the implications of that for a moment. Cool? Cool.)

When you don't know where to turn to / And you're sure all hope is gone / When the day you waited for won't come / And dark won't yield to dawn / Trust love and open up your eyes

Now these lines are what get me. They talk about Ruby losing hope and direction, caught in darkness. Now, while this is the intro song for Volume 7, it’s clear that Ruby has not lost her hope yet. If anything, she just got a big chunk of it back.

And I’d argue that even In Volume 8 when shit has hit the fan and it just keeps coming and coming, Ruby hasn’t lost her resolve yet. There are definitely moments when she comes very, very close to it and she falters, but she does end up maintaining it for the most part.

(I can't find it, but imagine the gif where Ruby is looking down at Penny's unconscious body and is tearing up while saying "It's all...too much." Wow. Such a pretty gif.)

(It's also funny how these moments where Ruby's doubts are the strongest are taking place when Penny is seriously wounded and incapacitated, now isn't it? Surely that's just a funny coincidence...)

But then she and the rest of team RWBY fall into the Ever After and, after learning about Penny's second death, Ruby's mental state just falls deeper and deeper.

But then the lyrics tell Ruby that all she has to do during this dark and harrowing moment is to 'trust love.' Who's love is she supposed to trust? The song has been relating to keeping hope up till now, so it's not a stretch to say that she's supposed to trust the love she had for Penny, platonic or otherwise.

Trust love, the truth is there, but sometimes in disguise

These lines are certainly interesting when put into the context that they're also related to Penny somehow. Personally, all I can think of is when Penny transferred the Winter Maiden powers to Winter. I'm definitely not the first to mention this, but it's awfully suspicious that the aura glow was yellow and not green, isn't it? Sure, there were motes of green, but that isn't what happened when Fria gave Penny the powers previously. So why the change? Unless the truth, while there, is disguised. The truth is that Penny is dying and giving up her power, but it's disguised somehow...

The way's uncertain but we're together / Movin' toward the light / When we trust in love and open up our eyes

Mention of Ruby being together with someone. Obviously, this could just be referring to team RWBY or the whole group being together, united under the mission of saving Remnant from Salem. But, again, when mostly every other line has been tied to hope--and by extension Penny--, it's hard to believe it's talking about that. So, maybe a reunion with a certain someone that hasn't happened yet? A reunion that will bring Ruby back towards the light--towards regaining her hope--once and for all? I mean, if Ruby's character arc in the second Justice League crossover movie is where her arc will go in the show proper, it's not too far of a stretch.

(The reason I mention the Justice League crossover movies is because Ruby's arc in the first movie was very reminiscent to the arc she had about her leadership role in Volumes 7 and 8. So, since she became very self sacrificing in that movie, diving headfirst into mission after mission with no regard to her safety, maybe that's what will happen in Volume 10 too? Maybe having the potential of getting Penny back will be the thing to make her stop?)

Anyways... I don't know if any of this really made any sense and I might just be rambling nonsense, but yeah. Some things that I noticed and felt the need to shout out into the ether.

Thanks for reading!

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"Are you sure you're okay?"

The hero couldn't only hear the villain's heartbeat increase, they could also feel it. Sense it.

Most of the time, the hero managed perfectly to incorporate this (very unfortunate) condition of theirs into their normal life. It wasn't much of a burden and immortality, although they hadn't had it for long, turned out to be quite interesting.

"Yup," the hero said. But the hunger was probably the worst part about it.

The first few weeks, the hero had taken rather embarrassing measures and slaughtered farm animals outside of the city. Although it was enough blood to satisfy them, it turned out that being a vampire wasn't primarily about the blood.

It was about the power. When their prey struggled, the hero's mood improved considerably and not only that, they also didn't need to feed on something alive for quite a while after a pleasing kill. It was about the struggle, about the fight.

About sinking their fangs into soft, warm flesh. It was about survival.

"You are drooling all over my wrist." The villain did not act like it but the hero knew they were scared. Their heart was raging and their pupils were blown up, almost like they feared the hero would attack them any second now.

But, of course not. The hero could control themselves perfectly. After all, they were supposed to serve the people of the city.

The hero was a specialist when it came to figuring out how to change. When the farm animals had started to become unappetizing, the hero switched to blood donations - which was surprisingly even worse - and suffered ever since.

But they prevailed.

It was part of the deal, they supposed. Vampires suffered just like people did and they couldn't betray the trust the people had put in them.

"A little greedy, aren't ya?" the villain asked and when the hero looked at them, they realized their lips were already on the villain's wrist. Their own fingers dug into the villain's forearm and they had, in fact, slavered all over their enemy's wrist.

Slowly, they parted from the villain's arm and ultimately, let go of it. It wasn't even embarrassing. The hero had accepted that they weren't quite "normal" anymore and that was fine.

Supposedly, their thoughts had carried them away. In general, the hero tried to minimize contact with people but the villain was kind of...unavoidable. And with the hunger? With the villain always being this close? What was the hero supposed to do?

"You didn't listen to me in the slightest, huh?"

The hero stared at them, almost dumbfounded. They couldn't tell when their brain had shut off, all they knew was that they had been injured pretty badly. The villain had found them. They had passed out. And now, they were in the villain's apartment.

Without hesitation, the hero looked down their body and lifted their shirt. Instead of the open and bleeding wound, there was a fresh scar on their abdomen, quite painful but not as bad as before.

That probably explained the hero's demonic hunger - they needed energy. Lots of it.

"Not really."

"I suggested..." The villain stared at their wrist full of saliva and rubbed it on the hero's shirt dry. Before the hero could say anything, the villain put a hand on their thigh and squeezed gently. They leaned over. "...that you might be in better hands if you joined me."

"Pff." The villain's heart was going crazy by now and the hero was impressed they were hiding it so well. Fear was a horrible feeling but ultimately, that was exactly what the hero found so satisfactory. "What's this? Seducing me to the dark side? What a pathetic attempt."

The hero raised their index finger, as if to lecture the villain.

"I have sworn to protect-"

"-every citizen of this city with all the power and mightiness I can offer, blah blah blah. I know," the villain said. "But have you considered that we might be..." The villain's hand crawled up the hero's thigh and the hero's eyes widened. "...more powerful together?"

"I am not interested in power," the hero said.

"Hm," the villain answered. They touched the hero's cheek gently and it became quite impossible to ignore the villain's heartbeat. Especially when their wrist was this close to their head. The villain smirked. "Is there nothing I can offer you?"

The hero stared into the villain's eyes and didn't dare to look away, not even when the villain shifted their hand so their wrist brushed the hero's lips.

"There is absolutely nothing...?" The hero could feel the blood pumping through the villain's veins against their lips. Images of the villain begging and moaning shot into the hero's head. Them turning, them somehow enjoying it when the hero let their kisses turn into bites.

Salvation came in many ways and the hero supposed they had been wrong.

It wasn't about fear. It wasn't about seeing someone or something struggle. It was about deliverance.

Deliverance from life. Deliverance from…other things.

It was torture either way and it slowly dawned on the hero that for the second time, they had been wrong. The villain was probably not afraid of them.

Christ, the hero wanted to bite. They wanted to break skin and taste blood.

They could have been gentle. They could have been really gentle for the villain.

"Well..." The villain pulled away their wrist and tilted their head, leaving the hero with a black hole in their stomach and a tendency for extreme violence they tried to hold back. "You know where to find me, in case you change your mind."

They smiled a sweet smile but the hero considered them to be a special kind of demon at the moment. Straight from hell, straight to torture them.

The hero gave back a pained smile, clearly moments away from snapping. But not even that hindered the villain from kicking them out of their apartment promptly.

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All (Alternate Ending - Reader Leaves Simon)

tw: mentions of cheating, divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; mentions of therapy/counseling; not a happy ending of them together

Please read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

I had some people ask for an alternate ending where reader leaves Simon so here it is :) Few things to note here: This will happen right after the club incident where Simon fights Keegan; everything that happened in the original plot will not happen really so reader cheating and them getting capture is out

*Little flashback* - This is from chapter 10 (in italics)

But now that you and him were back at home, the wrath had simmered... just a bit. He was still mad.... but more with himself. He wanted to cut off the man's hands, but looking at you made all thoughts about that vanish.

"Sweetheart-"

"No!" you yelled as you turned on your heels to face him, "Don't fucking sweetheart me Simon! What the fuck was that back there?"

He pulled his balaclava off, tossing it on the bed before glancing back at you, "Please-"

"Stop! No more fucking talking!" It was your turn to see red, "How could you do that?! You went looking for me?! I told you I was coming home!" He tried to speak but you didn't even let him open his mouth, "And you punched someone! Because what?... he danced with me?! Because he had his arm around me-"

"I saw him kiss your neck, Y/n!" Simon shouted. In all the years you had been married, he rarely raised his voice, especially at you... but he also had never cheated until he did. "I saw the way he looked at you!"

"So what?! You think I wanted him back! You think I was going to leave with him! That I was going to cheat like you did to me!" Simon's hard eyes softened, "You stepped out on our marriage! Six times! SIX! Not one, but six! And you didn't even have the balls to tell me. You didn't even tell me how you felt before then! Instead, you fucked some girl! All because you like having rough sex! I'm not some fucking fragile toy that will break! I'm not weak! And you won't even divorce me!"

He stepped closer to you, but you took a step back, "Love-"

"No! I'm not done! I'm so fucking mad right now I could punch something!" You started pacing, "You say I'm yours but you go and act like this?!"

"You are. Sweetheart I swear-" He tried to reach out for you.

You smacked his hand away, "Don't touch me!"

"Hit me love. Y'can punch me. Slap me. Do whatever y'need-"

"STOP!" You screamed. You screamed so loud that Simon's eyes widened so big from your tone. You thought someone would come knocking on the door from how loud it was, possibly thinking you were being hurt. When you thought about it, you were being hurt.... just not physically.

The tension in the air only grew. The anger that was racing through your body was going to force its way out, and that terrified you. You weren't a violent person. You didn't want to see what would happen if you hit Simon... you knew he wouldn't do anything back, but the thought of being like your ex made you want to vomit.

A shift in Simon's eyes only confirmed that what you did wasn't like you. It wasn't the woman he married. But he hated himself to know it was all because of him that you had changed. And he couldn't stop it.

It was as if a dam burst as tears began to fall down your cheeks. The mascara and eyeliner causing black streaks on the skin. You didn't even care if he saw you in pain or not. You wanted to scream and to lash out at him, but your throat had become so dry from shouting already you had no energy left in you.

You lowered your head, softly shaking it, "I need space, Simon. I need to be away from you... You need to be away from me." you said.

"Wait, please don't-"

"Please, Simon... please just give me space and time to think about everything," you sniffed, "I'm begging you.... please."

He stood there, eyes shifting between yours as he listened to you. As he heard your plea. He had been so worried about losing you that he only made things worse. And there was nothing that he could do to fix it other than give you what you wanted. Give you the space you needed.

He slowly nodded as tears formed in his own eyes, and a sob left your mouth as you clamped a hand around your lips to stop the sound from escaping. "Alright," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "I'll give you anything y'want. Promise. Just-" He stopped himself from finishing his sentence, "Alright."

It was the last thing he said before he grabbed his balaclava off the bed and left the house. As soon as the door shut, you couldn't help but sink down to your knees and let out one of the hardest, silent cries you ever had. It was so hard to do anything but cry, and that you did. You cried as you took your dress off. You cried as you sat on the floor in the shower, letting the water fall all over you. You cried as you gazed at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you wanted to punch the glass.

************************************************************************

Simon opened his office door before quickly shutting and locking it once he stepped inside. It was cold and dark, like it always was. But this time, it felt colder... damper. The windowless room offered no light source until he flicked on the small lamp on this desk. It barely lit up anything, but it was enough for him to find his way to the couch located off to the side of the room.

He slumped down with a low and painful groan leaving his mouth. It wasn't the smartest idea for him to even be fighting when he was still bruised and battered from the mission he left not even 24 hours ago. Actually, it was a stupid idea, and he knew that. The adrenaline no longer pumping through him, he felt how the knuckle on his right hand had split a little. When he glanced down at it, he felt a rush of sadness fall to his stomach as he looked at the dried up blood.

"Fuck," he said.

He wished someone could punch him in the face. The amount of force that he struck with his first on the guy at the club, he wished it was his face that he hit. He felt like he could take one of his knives and stab himself in the chest. He didn't deserve anything after what he did to you.... You had given him more than he truly deserved by staying with him at the beginning of all of this. All he did in return was made you cry damn near every day.

Maybe he did deserve to let you go; to let you leave him. He thought about if he should just be alone for the rest of his life. Retire and move somewhere remote, so he couldn't have any human interaction. So he wouldn't ever hurt you again by seeing him, by thinking about what he did to you. Or if he was lucky, he'd get himself killed on the next mission he was sent off to. It'd be quick and painless, he hoped. You could even be free from him.

He laid down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling as his huge frame barely fit comfortably on it. But he didn't deserve comfort. He didn't deserve to live, he thought. Maybe one day, he could finally be with his mom, his brother.... his nephew. If they were alive, he was sure his Tommy would have punched him square in the face. He could see the look on his face so vividly. The pain in his heart was worse than the hook that pierced through his rib so many years ago. He thought he deserved another hook.... and he'd let it happen if that meant making you happy once again.

************************************************************************

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ava asked you.

The two of you sat on her couch as you had a glass of wine in your hand. You had been staring at those damn papers for almost an hour as you and her talked about everything, most of the time you just crying in her lap like you were a child needing comfort from a mother.

Four weeks had passed since you and Simon had last spoken or seen each other. And in that time, you felt more angry with everything that was going on in your life. You wanted to.... you really wanted to work things out with Simon, but you knew it was no use. Things wouldn't ever get back to the way they were, and even thinking about getting past his infidelity just made you want to dry heave. And knowing how he acted - looking for you and beating someone up - just made your stomach twist in painful knots.

You needed to be away from him... for a long time.

Nodding, you let out a sob. Even just the act of signing the papers to give to him caused major anxiety in your chest. But you set the glass on the coffee table before picking up the divorce papers with trembling hands, "I have to."

Ava gave you a comforting nod as she rubbed your back softly. She knew it was hard... she had been in your shoes once and she didn't want to see you hurt anymore regardless of if you stayed with Simon or not. She handed you the pen that was sitting on the table, and still with trembling hands, you went through each page, filling them out signing your name. You thought you were going to pass out when you signed the last page, but it strangely felt.... good. Like a relief that you had been wanting since the night you told Simon you wanted a divorce.

But you also were afraid of what was going to happen next. Simon had proved himself to you over and over that he wasn't going to divorce you. Would he get angry? Would he rip the papers up? Would he hurt you even more? You didn't know, and that was terrifying to not know. Yet, you still pulled out your phone and texted him asking to meet the following morning.

When the front door of the apartment opened, you had already been sitting at the dining table. You tried your best to calm your breathing all morning from the anxiety running through your body, but when you heard his heavy footsteps cross through the doorframe, you couldn't help but suck in a breath.

The same thing was for him as he looked around the living room before he saw you sitting at the table. He thought he would feel better when he walked in, but for some reason his heart broke a little knowing he was the one that brought you all of this pain. It broke even more when he glanced down to see the white papers on the table, before meeting your eyes.

"Hey," he softly said, pulling his balaclava off as he walked and sat down across from you.

You tried to keep your composure calm, but your voice was shaky, "Hey."

The silence that engulfed the room for that brief pause could have killed you both. Simon's eyes kept flickering down to the papers every few seconds, and you couldn't help but lower your head. This was going to be way harder than you thought.

"Y'wanted to talk?" he asked, his own voice different than the usual tone.

You nervously bit your lip as you raised your hand and set it on top of the papers. His eyes looked down at the table once more before you slid them across the table, "I want a divorce Simon."

He could only swallow the lump in his throat that was so thick, he thought he would choke on it. He couldn't even form a sentence to respond back to you as his eyes stayed glued onto the papers that were now in front of him. It was stupid of him to think after all he had done you would still want to be with him, but deep down he knew he didn't deserve you. That night he said he'd give you anything you wanted - and this seemed to be what you wanted. But he couldn't help the guilt, regret, anger, sadness, and everything else that flowed through him at the same time all too quick. But he remained quiet - too quiet.

Your heartbeat quickened at his lack of response to you. You almost thought he was going to yell at you, but when he finally took the papers into his hand, you didn't know what to feel. It was... odd.

"I..." he paused, trying his best to not let his voice sound too angry and hurt, "I'll sign them tonight and give em back to you tomorrow," he said before he abruptly stood up. You barely got a chance to see the expression on his face when he turned around heading to the bedroom, "Need to grab a few things. Won't be long."

And he wasn't. He grabbed a couple of dufflebags and hastily threw clothes into them, along with his gear and toiletry items, before he walked back towards the front door. You hadn't moved from your spot at the table as you looked at him with tearful eyes that had yet to fall. But the moment both of your eyes locked on each other, that's when you saw it - the fear in him. It wasn't fear for his life... but fear that knowing he wouldn't know what to do anymore. The harsh thoughts that he wanted to act on; to disappear, die, or take himself out. But that was extreme. He knew he couldn't do that. So he gave you a small nod before opening the door and walking out.

************************************************************************

A lot can happen in 5 year... half a decade... especially in a marriage.

And god you never thought it would come to a divorce between you and Simon.

The next day after you'd given him the papers, you walked in the apartment after work to see them laying on the dining table.

He had signed them like you asked him to.

A part of you thought he was going to call or text saying he wasn't going to, but the fact that he did made so many mixed emotions run through you.

Those feelings only continued to be confusing throughout the entire process of it all. The packing up your things. You and Simon cleaning out the apartment. Moving to a new place. Everything was confusing. But as time went on, you began to feel different; good. A soft peaceful aura flowed around you, and it was noticeable. You weren't crying as much anymore. You smiled more.

As much as good distractions came in going out from time to time with Ava, you found yourself enjoying just being alone. The silence that welcomed you each time you came home from work put a warm and comfort feeling in your chest.

Before you knew it... almost a year had passed by since the divorce, and not once had you seen Simon. There were times that you thought about him, the last thing he ever said to you replaying in your mind.

"I'll always love you sweetheart."

It was a promise to you. A promise that he would finally let you go. But a promise that his heart wouldn't beat for anyone else. And it didn't... he would never let anyone get close enough to him ever again.

It was rainy evening - more of a forceful thunderstorm that blew through the entire area - and you were bundled up on the couch watching a movie. With a cup of tea in your hand, you tried to warm up from the cool temperate that was outside since Autumn had set in a couple of weeks ago. There was a quick knock at your door, making you glance towards it. Your eyebrows furrowed as you set the cup on the coffee table and stood up. You weren't expecting anyone since Ava and her husband were gone on vacation.

Huh?

Slowly making your way towards the door, your pulse quickened thinking it was Simon. No. That couldn't be right. He hadn't talked to you in forever. And he made it very clear that he wasn't going to do anything like look for you.

So who was it?

Looking through the peephole you saw a bulky and tall guy on the other side with his signature mohawk. Your eyes widened as you unlocked and opened the door, looking at him in confusion.

"Johnny?" you asked in confusion, "What're you doing here?"

He looked... tired. Like he had just come back from a mission or something. But he also looked...... nervous? Scared? And his silence made you gulp.

He quickly glanced down at the floor before meeting your eyes again.

"It's Simon."

I had to leave yall on a cliff hanger lol! Seems to be my speciality huh? Let me know what you all think about this ending or if you'd like to see something else (not sure if I'm taking requests for this, but we'll see)

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[captain-joongz]

You know how Hongjoong has those fucking gorgeous thick thighs? Yeah I wanna leave marks on them so bad. Fuck hickeys on the neck, I want to give him hickeys on his thighs grrrrr

(If you write anything sub hongjoong please, idc what type but I dont read dom member ever cus it gives me the ick)

oooh anon you don't even know how much i understand you. do you remember when Hongjoong wore that striped crop top and light blue jeans? those pictures had me going crazy for his thighs and ass for days. our captain is just so well built~

and i'm definitely not opposed to writing sub!idols, it's a nice change for me and i am a switch (tho i mostly lean towards sub, but sometimes i get dominant streaks - especially with joong, hwa and yoongi, those guys drive me insane)

warnings: subby joong, marking, edging, begging, riding, unprotected sex

i go absolutely crazy for marks, so i fully understand your plight, and joongie just has such beautiful thighs and stomach, made for you to mark up as you please. i know i wouldn't be able to help myself

and whether we're talking about idol!joong or any other au, we know that our captain is just a helpless workaholic that will spend entire days working, dragging himself home just to sleep a few hours and then go right back to his job, and that puts a lot of strain on his psyche, so every now and then he needs a good caring for, a reminder that he can let go and someone will give him everything that he needs

that's where you come in, always ready to indulge your boyfriend and help him destress - and one of your favourite ways to do this is to have him all marked up writhing in pleasure under you, begging you for more and crying with how good he feels

his thighs are so strong and beautiful, and the honey-toned skin bruises so prettily, darkens to deep purple, and he responds even better when you take your teeth to his skin, leaving bite marks nicely encircling the dark dark bruises. but what's even better is how he tenses and jerks and jumps with every sharp prick of pain at a new mark made, whines and whimpers slipping out of his lips effortlessly

you always love to see how his eyes grow more and more hazy as he surrenders himself completely to the pleasure, giving up the reins and letting himself be carried by the flow. when he's really tired he always turns so sweet and pliant, all needy and teary-eyed, whimpering anytime your travelling hands brush over his perked up sensitive nipples or when your mean fingers dig into the bruised skin to draw out the burn

and even with his pretty cock all hard and red, wet and smattered in precum, you ignore it in favour of sucking and biting more spots into his abs - you're never satisfied until he's all covered in your spit and love, until there are tear tracks on his cheeks and drool slipping out the corner of his mouth without you even touching him where he wants it the most, cause that's when he's begging for you the sweetest

he'd want to cum so bad, and he wouldn't be shy to ask for it, countless whiney "please, please, please!" spilling out of his mouth, hands gripping into the bedding because he wouldn't dare displease you by touching where he's not supposed to

and when he was desperate, teary and marked up enough, you'd finally relent. the moment you finally sunk down on his cock would have him choking on his spit and moans, body tensing as he fought not to cum - he knew you wouldn't be happy about it, he still needed to earn your permission

whether you'd ride him quick and rough or slow and sensual would probably be up to your mood, but if he was really tired and just needing a release, you'd find it in yourself to take it easy on him, languidly rolling your hips on him and clenching your cunt around him to drive him closer to that peak

and he'd look so fucking beautiful under you like that, pretty tears tracking down his face, eyes hazy and mouth slack in pleasure, head thrown back, tits all bitten up. he'd be a vision, your vision, and you'd want nothing more than finally give him what he so desperately needed

after all, he'd been such a good boy for you, begged so prettily for you and worked so hard so he could spoil you, he deserved everything - and you'd tell him as much, smothering him in praises that would make him cry and whimper even more - he wanted nothing more than to be your good boy

"please, please, let me cum, i've been so good" he'd cry endlessly, and finally when you were also close you'd let him, allowing him to spill himself into you while you rode both your orgasms out. he'd cum with the most melodious relieved moans and then ragdoll into the sheets, completely sated and spent

and after wiping him clean, watching him slip in and out of content sleep and whispering more praises about how he pleased you so well, you'd finally settle in, pulling Hongjoong into your chest and petting his hair as he slipped off into the most comfortable sleep he had in a while

he could always count on you to give him just what he needed

our second ask, phew this one was so fun to write! everybody needs a little subby joong in their life, god just how much i want to spoil him and pamper him <3

hard hours continue!! don't be shy and come submit your own fantasies!

divider from @cafekitsune

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: kwon soonyoung

love at first sight (or meet cute au)

'did you hear wedding bells ring? cause that's what i heard when i saw you'

it wasn't supposed to happen. hoshi knew better but he's been sitting at the hotel whole day and boredom clung to his whole body like that stupid fly on the ceiling that refused to budge no matter how many pillows you threw her way. and he knows that it's all for his own safety, knows that fans went ballistic since they learned he landed in this city and he knows that his managers actually want only the best for him. it's just their version of best for him is basically imprisoning him in the hotel and hoshi's version of best for him is letting him roam around the city unguarded. so yes, him walking out of the hotel unsupervised was not supposed to him but oh well, it's too late to think about it now that he's hiding in the very first shop he saw on his way, running away from overly excited fans.

said shop turned out to be a small coffee shop in a ghibli movie characters theme. it's cute, hoshi notes from his position behind the counter. he climbed here the second he entered, quickly realizing that hiding under the tables will not help him. there's no one in the cafe and he has half a mind to call someone from staff when door from his left opens and a person walks in. hoshi instantly shoots up, apologies on his tongue when you finally look up and- oh.

not many things can leave hoshi speechless; he's been in this business for such a long time that it feels like he's seen it all, even some stuff that he wishes he could un-see. he's very used to perfect faces, perfect settings, perfect speeches - he's been trained to know what to say in any situations but right now he's at loss. you are so-

'what the hell you are doing standing behind the counter?!'

-rude. yeah. blinking, he snaps back to reality instead of getting lost in your eyes. it's almost five and sun dances beautifully on your face, it illuminates all your features with an orange glow and he wishes he had a camera with him because whoa.

'i'm gonna call police if you don't step back.' there's slight tremor in your voice but you still try to look confident. 'how did you even-'

'door was open!' hoshia blurts out in his defense, belatedly realizing that this is not a good excuse for hiding behind the counter, where only staff members can go. 'i had to hide, i'm so sorry, but they would've spot me if i chose just take any table.'

your face is very expressive. miriads of emotions change themselves until you settle on confusion. 'hide from who- oh my god, are you a gang member?'

'i-what-' hoshi sputters, looking himself up and down. does he look like a gang member? 'no, i'm- uh, a singer. popular one.'

hoshi is not sure why he added the last bit but it's too late to take it back now. your gaze focuses on his face and he takes this time to study you too. it's hard to pinpoint why, but there's something so interesting and fascinating about you (apart from you generally being really, really pretty). like hoshi could stare at you all day and not get bored, could see you as his muse even.

'okay,' you exhale, looking very done. 'okay. you are a singer. a popular one. hiding from..fans, i presume?' hoshi nods. 'okay. that still doesn't mean that you can stand here.'

hoshi moves like a lightning, quickly jumping to the other side. you're not wearing any badge with a name and he suddenly really needs to know your name. 'sorry again. uh-' he looks around, trying to keep the conversation going. 'can i get one ice americano, please? name is soonyoung, by the way.'

you look... amused. baffled. shocked. hoshi likes how he can pull out so many emotions from you but he is yet to see you smile and that makes him sad. 'okay, soonyoung. one ice americano coming right up, anything else?'

'your name,' hoshi says, beaming, not caring how awfully cheesy that sounded. he goes for a killer: 'i can't keep callling you 'pretty girl' in my mind.'

and there you go, there's your smile. it sets fireworks in his chest and his grin broadens. you look much better with that smile on your face, he decides and proceeds to tell you this loudly as well.

'thank you,' you say, blushing but also laughing.

you don't say your name but laughter is good, hoshi decides. laughter is almost love, no? it can start with a laughter, he is sure. his mind conjures thousands of pick up lines that can you make laugh and maybe, just maybe, if he makes you laugh often enough you'll tell him your name. and then he can get your number and then he can facetime you from whenever and will always be able to look at your pretty face. now that's a solid plan in hoshi's mind and he's never happier for not listening to his managers and running away from the fans because meeting you is worth it ten times over.

a/n: and i finished my 'seventeen members as love tropes' series with hoshi! hope you liked it, let me know! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 68: Oliver's Speakeasy

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, blood drinking

October 1925

"You have to relax a bit, Oliver," said Roger. "If you're holding your breath while I lace your corset, it will be dreadfully uncomfortable."

Oliver let out his breath and tried to calm his nerves. "I'm not used to corsets. It's not anything I thought I'd ever have to wear."

"That's how I felt as well, but vampires do love their low-necked ballgowns on men and women alike. It's another thing I've become accustomed to -- out of all the adjustments that come with being a vampire's thrall, dresses are minor."

"That's true enough. I can only hope I look acceptable in it."

"Given how your master looks at you, I believe he would think you're fetching in a flour sack." He began to lace the corset tight. "You're quite devoted to pleasing your master, aren't you?"

"I find that I can't help myself. Isn't that the effect of the enthrallment?"

"One effect, certainly. Although after twenty years, I hardly know where the enthrallment ends and I begin."

Oliver nodded. He didn't need twenty years to feel that way. He already felt as though he hardly remembered himself before enthrallment. "You seem very comfortable with your master."

"Comfortable, yes, you could say that. It's my duty to take care of him, and it's an easier life if you keep a sense of humor about it. I suspect I've become fond of him apart from the enthrallment. And I know my master appreciates my efforts." He finished lacing the corset and put a hand on Oliver's head. "Your master appreciates you as well, I'm sure of it."

"I can only hope so."

Roger helped him put the gown on, a turn-of-the-century style done in midnight blue with embroidered roses, one tailored to his exact measurements. He then fastened a delicate gold chain adorned with sapphires around his bare neck. Oliver stared into the mirror. He was dressed like a princess or a wealthy heiress, looking nothing like himself. It was a stark reminder of how much he'd been changed since the night of his capture.

It had only been weeks, and yet his former life was already receding away from him, never to return.

Oliver then assisted Roger in donning his own gown, an ostentatious red number that had very clearly been chosen by Roger's master and not Roger himself, and they made their way up the stairs to their masters' chamber to help them prepare as well.

Alexander and Fitz were lounging on the bed when they entered, but they both stood up, wide-eyed, at the sight of the thralls. Fitz whistled. "Fantastic. Lex, are you sure you want Oliver to go out like that? He's going to turn every head in the place."

"Let heads turn. If they touch my thrall, they'll pay the price," said Lex with startling fierceness. "It's no different from when I went out with you."

Fitz laughed. "Somehow, I don't think Oliver will end up grievously insulting and humiliating a vampire in front of an entire ballroom."

"It's almost a pity," said Alexander thoughtfully. "Come here, Oliver, I wish to take a better look at you."

Oliver stepped closer to his master, who took him by the shoulders and swept over him with an appraising eye. He tilted Oliver this way and that, and took his chin in his hand to meet his gaze. Oliver felt just like that fateful night in the auction house, when Alexander had decided to make his purchase, when Oliver first felt his hunger and desire. Even though his master had taken blood the night before, the undercurrent of hunger and desire was still pressing down on him.

"Master, hold still while I fasten your cummerbund," said Roger, who had started to assist Fitz while Oliver was losing himself in his master. "It's difficult to fasten when you squirm."

"You should be helping me with my attire as well," said Alexander, running his fingers down the side of Oliver's face.

"Yes, sir." Oliver felt as if he were in a dream as he began to help his master prepare, slipping the neatly pressed coat on his shoulders and tying a neat bow around his neck.

Just as the vampires were finishing their preparations, the doorbell buzzed, and Oliver ran down the stairs to answer, careful not to trip in his embroidered slippers. He flung the door open to Miss Lily, dressed in a floral pink frock and tall pink heels, the sort of fashionable thing Oliver saw in department store windows. Behind her, Miriam, also fashionably dressed, poked her head out shyly.

"Oh, Oliver, you look positively dashing! This dress suits you so well," said Miss Lily, cradling his chin in her hands. "Where are your masters? They had better be ready, because I don't want to leave the carriage waiting long."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my bad luck charm," said Fitz, hanging over the balcony.

"Oh, Fitz, dear, thank goodness you're here. Lex hasn't cracked so much as a smile since you last left, even with this delightful thrall at his beck and call. You'd better have relieved him of his malaise."

"You want me to relieve Lex of his malaise?" said Fitz, sauntering down the stairs. "You might as well ask me to remove the water from the ocean."

"I do see your point," said Miss Lily. She leaned in towards him and whispered conspiratorially. "Has he told you about his plan?"

"His daft plan to get all of us tortured? Naturally. And I support it, of course, because I'm as daft as he is."

Miss Lily sighed. "Of course you do. I expected nothing less."

"My ears are burning. I think you must be talking about me." Lex was walking down the stairs now, with Roger following behind.

"Oh, Roger!" Miss Lily went to him and squeezed him, a fondly dazed smile appearing on the thrall's face. "I do hope you've been well."

"Never better, Miss Lily," he said dreamily. Oliver wondered if Roger had been enthralled by Miss Lily as well. And on that note…

"You look lovely, Miriam," he said politely to the thrall, who was clinging to her madam and looking perhaps a bit uneasy at all the commotion.

Her face lit up in a smile. "Oh, thank you, Oliver. You look very handsome as well!"

Miss Lily clapped her hands. "Now that we've got everyone here, let's all pile into the carriage, shall we?"

Next thing Oliver knew, he was crammed in next to Alexander in the carriage, which was only just barely large enough to hold all six people.

"I've been looking forward to this," said Fitz, shamelessly snuggled up to Alexander's other side. "It's been ages since we've been out to the Tiger's Eye."

"Lex and I were there not so long ago," said Miss Lily. "If Lex gets as drunk tonight as he was then, you're going to have to help me carry him home, Fitz."

"Oh, with pleasure."

"If I might ask, sirs…" said Oliver, fidgeting with his dress hem, "What sort of place is the Tiger's Eye?"

"Why, it's a social club for vampires and their thralls. One of the most popular in the city," said Miss Lily. "Everyone who is everyone puts in an appearance now and then, even recluses like your master, and we all bring our favorite thralls, all dressed to the nines. There's entertainment and stiff drinks and even h'ors doeuvres for the thralls. You'll just love it."

Oliver nodded, far less certain than Miss Lily that he would love it. He'd never frequented bars and clubs, finding them loud and awkward at best. At least he wouldn't be going there alone, but could stay by his master's side.

"Make sure you stay close to me," said Alexander, as though he read Oliver's mind. "Don't entertain any vampires who show an interest in you."

"Yes, sir."

They stepped out of the carriage in front of an unassuming restaurant that seemed as ordinary as any other. Clearly human patrons could be seen through the window, enjoying Italian dishes. "This is the Tiger's Eye, sir?" asked Oliver.

"It's in the basement. The restaurant is simply a front run by the same vampire who owns the club." Alexander pulled him close as they walked to the entrance. "It offers cover, and brings in human money and human blood."

"I see, sir."

A mouth-watering scent filled his nose as the group stood before the maitre'd's station. Miss Lily moved a flap on her dress to reveal a ruby pin, and the maitre'd waved them to the back. They all descended a rickety spiral staircase, the sound of music and laughter growing louder.

The Tiger's Eye club was much larger than the restaurant upstairs. All of the tables were low, with the patrons sitting on piles of cushions. While some of the crowd were wearing contemporary fashions, like Miss Lily and Fitz, a good number of them were dressed in formalwear from decades gone by, much like Oliver's ballgown. More alarmingly, some of the patrons were dressed in very little, as though they were burlesque dancers. It didn't take long for him to realize that these were thralls, kneeling on the cushions and gazing up at their vampiric masters with adoration.

There was a stage at the opposite end of the club where a jazz quartet was playing. Waitstaff flitted among the tables, and like many of the thralls, their outfits were absolutely scandalous. Their glassy eyes and sleepwalking mannerisms indicated that they were heavily enthralled as well, and there were prominent bite scars on their necks and shoulders. In one of the back corners, a well-dressed vampire was drinking from a waitress.

With Alexander, it was sometimes easy for Oliver to forget what sort of situation he was in, and feel like he was perhaps an ordinary servant to an eccentric rich man instead of thrall to a vampire. His current surroundings made him intensely aware of his situation, surrounded by potentially hostile vampires and semi-conscious human slaves. Alexander, of course, wasn't distressed at all, taking in the scene with a smile on his face.

All vampires are dangerous -- that's what Roger had told him.

Nonetheless, Alexander was by far Oliver's greatest chance at safety, and so he shamelessly clung to his master as they walked through the club. He could feel the eyes of leering vampires on him and see their hungry grins. His master's grip tightened. It seemed like an eternity before they arrived at a table with a "reserved" placard on it.

The vampires arranged the cushions and made themselves comfortable, Alexander beckoning Oliver close and pulling him halfway into his lap. Next to them, Fitz flopped over into Roger's lap as the latter sighed.

"The music's good tonight. Who's playing?" Fitz asked.

"They're regulars here. The trumpet player is an older vampire -- I've trained up a few of his thralls, and he has a great sense of humor. The others are all fledglings, more or less…"

Oliver found he couldn't really concentrate on what Lily was saying over the din of the crowd, deafened by the sound of his own heartbeat and blood rushing through his ears.

"Say there, I can't help but notice what an excellent thrall you've brought with you."

Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin. The vampire addressing Lex was a larger man in a checkered suit.

"Thank you," said Alexander with a hint of threat. "He's my most treasured possession." And Oliver's heart twisted to hear himself described that way.

"Where do you get a fine thrall like that? I'm new to the area, just moved from down south, and I'm looking for some fresh blood."

"Oh, then I'm the one you want to talk to," Miss Lily interjected. "I handle conditioning for all of the finest high-end auctions and private sales in the city. I can't promise you'll find one as good as Oliver here, as thralls like him are in short supply, but I'm sure I could help you find something to your taste."

Oliver felt Alexander's hold on him relax as the vampire in the checkered suit started to happily chatter to Miss Lily about thrall sales. He noticed that, in addition to Miriam sitting in her lap, Miss Lily was now surrounded by several other adoring thralls, draped contentedly against her shoulders and over her legs.

"Who are…?"

"The thralls Miss Lily conditions are often drawn to her," said Alexander, toying with Oliver's hair. "This happens whenever we go to a place openly frequented by vampires."

"Good evening, sirs."

Oliver looked up to see a waitress dressed in frills that barely covered her most private areas, her eyes dull and glassy. He blushed and looked away.

"We have many top quality spirits available, as well as an assortment of blood on tap, including rare specialties. If there's anything I can fetch for you, esteemed sirs, it would be my pleasure to serve."

Alexander didn't seem the slightest bit put off by the waitress's plight. "I'll have a dry red, whatever's recommended."

"Certainly, sir."

"A light white wine for me," said Miss Lily.

"I'll take a sidecar," added Fitz. "And whatever beer you have on tap for my thrall."

"Right away, sirs."

"I can order something for you when she returns with the wine," said Alexander, and Oliver realized that the waitress had, of course, only asked the vampires what they wanted.

Oliver looked up again now that the waitress had walked away. "I don't drink, sir, but if I could have some tea, that would --" His eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat. No, it couldn't be. But it certainly was.

While Oliver had been busy trying not to stare at the waitress, another thrall had arrived to cuddle Miss Lily. She was wearing a highly fashionable teal evening dress with elaborate gray embroidery and fringe, her neck and wrists were dripping with gold, and her red hair was done up in a curled bob. She looked nothing at all like the last time Oliver had seen her, but Oliver knew he'd never forget that face, her fear burned into his mind.

"Emily!"

Previous > Masterlist

Next week: Emily!

Oliver last saw Emily all the way back in the auction house.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

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@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush

[twice-my-age-simp]

You can't be with her!

KateBishopxFem!reader, WandaNatxDaughter!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, fluff, smut, making out, strap-on, top!Kate

Summary: Your moms found out about your relationship with Kate and are not happy with it. They want to keep you safe, unintentionally hurting you while doing that.

Notes: Sorry for my long absence. Here's a new one shot for you. I think it's the longest work I've ever written so far. Enjoy reading this piece.

Word count: 5.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew you were in trouble. It was obvious. Especially after they broke into the house and you saw a very angry ex-assassin and a very pissed witch in the living room. But, let’s start from the beginning ‘cause what a story it is.

 

8 hours earlier

 

“No, there is no way.” your mom said firmly, standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips. You stood up from your chair and walked closer to her.

“Why? You can’t just do that.” you fighted back. You couldn’t believe this is happening and centrally won’t let it become the truth. You love your moms and you know they always try to do what’s best for you, but this time they were in the wrong.

“I can and I just did. You can’t see Kate anymore.” Nat said with a stern look, tightening her jaw. You turned from her to your other mom. “Mama, won’t you say anything?” you asked, a pleading look on your face.

Wanda, who was standing and listening to the conversation this whole time, walked closer to her wife. “Y/N, sweety, we’re just looking out for you.” she answered gently. You felt absolutely helpless, hurt and angry.

“You can’t make this decision for me. It’s my life and my relationship.” you spoked, hoping that they will change their minds. 

“You are our daughter and still a child. It is as we say.” Nat added, not backing up. It’s hard to fight an assassin, even if it is not a physical fight. “Listen, we don’t want to be the bad guys here or make your life miserable. It’s just..” Nat signed. “Kate is an Avenger. This job is very dangerous and being with her can put you in life threatening danger. It’s already risky considering that you are our daughter.“

“I’m not a child anymore, I’m 21 years old. Nothing bad will happen to me. Please, I love her. Y-you can’t do that.” your eyes started to fill up with tears, your voice’s slowly breaking.

“I’m sorry, but that’s final.” Hearing that, you rushed to your room, locking yourself in it. You threw yourself on your bed and started crying.

Everything was good before. Your moms didn’t know about your relationship. You successfully kept it from them for a little over a year, always saying that you were going out with some friends. But of course, they had to walk in on you and Kate making out in the training room when you were visiting the Avengers in the compound, because they had some stuff to take care of. Nat immediately took you to the car. The drive home was silent, but when you got inside, they started saying that you needed to end things with Kate for “your own good”.

You picked up your phone, opened contacts and dialed the phone number. It was three rings after that the person answered. “Hi, Y/N.” said the angelic voice on the other side. It was all it took you to utter a sob, breaking down more from just hearing her. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Does it have something to do with your moms finding out about us?” Kate asked with a concerned tone. You didn’t want to tell her about your fight because it would make it true and you couldn’t let that happen. However, Kate deserves to know. Maybe you can come up with a solution and everything will be great again. At least you hoped so.

“Kate-” you sobbed. “They want me to break up with you.” you cried out. Silence enveloped the room. You didn’t know if it was because she hung up or she was shocked. Pulling the phone from your ear, you looked at the screen; okay, she’s still there. “Kate? Please, say something.”

After a few seconds, you heard her say, you think she’s also crying. “I don’t know what to say.” she cleared her throat and added. “There’s nothing I can do? Maybe they can still change their mind?”

“I don’t think so.” You said. The truth is, if there was anything that would change this, you would already do it. Sad reality hit you. Your moms don’t want you to be with Kate. Then you wondered if it was even important to you. I mean, of course, you want them to approve of your relationship, but they don’t. They just don’t understand that she’s the love of your life. Your whole heart. Your everything. At that moment, you made up your mind. “You know what? I don’t care what they say; I want to be with you. I love you, Kate. ” you said, determined, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Your moms are not gonna come in between your love life. You won’t let them.

“I love you too and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Are you sure, though? I mean, they are your moms. I don’t want your relationship with them to be destroyed because of me.” Kate said, her voice slowly quieting. You can’t help but feel your heart grow bigger with love for her if it is still even possible. She cares about you so much, you couldn’t be more sure about your decision.

“Yes, I want to be with you forever, Katie.” you said truthfully. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you too. What are we gonna do about your moms?” she asked.

“I don’t know, yet.” you said. You didn’t like to lie to your moms, but in this case, you feel like you have to. “Maybe we can meet up today? I can say that I need to go for a walk to clear my mind or something. You can park your car a few streets away.” you said hopefully. “Sure, be there in an hour.” With that, you ended the call.

Kate will be here in an hour, so you intend to spend this time on getting ready. You had to wear something not too fancy for a walk but not too ugly for a hangout with your girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’, after all this time you’ve been together, you still can’t believe you get to call her that. It makes your heart flutter every time.

After some time of thinking about what to wear and getting mentally ready to lie to your moms, you were ready to leave. Walking down the stairs, you opt to look upset, but without it looking weird. You know it is hard to lie to a witch and an ex-assassin.

You slowly made your way to put on some shoes when someone called from behind. “And where are you going, young lady?” You turned to see Nat with her arms crossed. “I hope it isn’t the girl I clearly said is dangerous for you to hang out with.” She said sternly.

That got your blood boiling. “If you want to know, I’m going for a walk to clear my head, because my mother said I can’t be with the love of my life!” You shouted, tears started to well up again. Nat stood a little shocked at the outburst but quickly recovered. “Quit the tone; you know I do this for your safety. I just want to protect you.” She said the last part a little softer.

“Whatever.” You said and walked out of the house, shutting the door.

You turned left and started going down the street; hopefully Kate is already there. As you walk, you make yourself slightly more presentable, fixing the hair and wiping the tears that once again started to flow because of the encounter with your mom. Turning left, you see Kate’s car parked on the side of the road. Smiling, you increased your speed and got into the car.

“Hi-” Kate didn’t manage to greet you because you immediately pulled her by her shirt into a long, passionate kiss. Your fist, full of the fabric, pulled Kate closer. Her hands flew to grip the back of your neck. Both missed the physical contact. Your lips, made to fit like two pieces, were moving against each other, stealing breath. Your lungs started to feel like they were on fire, but that didn't stop you from giving yourself to Kate in that kiss.

After a few minutes, you pull away from the kiss but still keep close to Kate. Your hand full of her shirt slightly loosens, yet the grip is still there. “Sorry, I just really missed you.” You said, looking down flustered. Finally, your eyes moved up, looking deeply into hers. “Hi.” you added after a moment of silence.

Kate smiled at you. “Hi.” She replied, giggling breathlessly. “I missed you too. So much.” 

It’s so stupid how her smile and the little glint in her eyes can make you all giggly and weak in knees. You know you loved her to the moon and back, you can’t give up on your relationship just because your moms tell you to, not when everything in you is screaming that Kate is the endgame, your endgame.

“Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong?” you felt Kate's hands on your face, thumbs wiping your cheeks. You didn't realize that you were crying. Every emotion's built up in you, and right when you saw her, you just had to let it all go. “It's just, I don't want to be away from you. I love you so much and I'm sick of this sneaking out, or my moms telling me that I can’t be with you.” you sniffled, looking into her eyes. “God, you are everything I want. I want to be with you forever. When I think about my future, I see you and me, and I don’t care what our lives will look like as long as we are together; that's everything I want.” You really poured your heart out there. It’s not typical for you to be this vulnerable in front of Kate—actually in front of anyone; you’ve always kept everything to yourself. 

Now that you think of it, you think you might have scared Kate. She’s silent, just staring at you, hands still on your face. You think you blew it, that it was too much for her. After all, you’ve been dating for only a little over a year. Thoughts started to flood your mind, creating the worst scenarios and just when you were about to apologize-

“Marry me.” Kate said, her face not showing any emotions. You were speechless; did you hear it right? Kate asked you to marry her? Well, it wasn’t really a question, more like as if she just admitted to herself that she wants to marry you. Nonetheless, there is still a part of you that believes that you heard it wrong. “What?” You breathed out, your eyes searching for reassurance in hers.

“Marry me.” She repeated more confidently this time as if coming back to life. “I’m serious. I know that we haven’t been dating for long, but I also want to be with you forever. I love you and I don’t want to be with anyone else; you are the only one for me. I want everything with you, I want you. This won’t be easy, but that’s great. Easy is boring.” you both giggled at that. “This is reckless and not normal at all, but let’s just be for real. We are reckless and nothing in our lives is normal, I mean, your moms are a witch and an ex-assassin and I am an Avenger. Nothing ever was normal and nothing will be, and frankly, I love it this way.” Kate ended her heartwarming speech with a big smile on her face, tears now also in her eyes. “So, Y/N Romanoff, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You said matching her smile. “Of course I will marry you.” Pulling the shirt you still had a grip on, you pull Kate into a slow kiss, filled with salty tears. You think you’ve never been so sure about anything in your life. Honestly, that’s all you ever wanted, to marry the love of your life and that is marrying Kate Bishop.

“Good, cause I thought for a second that I went too far.” Kate started to ramble after pulling away. You thought that the best way to stop her from that was to kiss her again. It didn’t last long though, because after a few seconds she pulled back again. She turned so she’s sitting straight, her back to the seat, and started to wave her hands around. “Oh my, I need to buy a ring. God! I’m so unprepared!” You tried to stop her by calling her name, but that didn’t really work.

“Katherine Elizabeth Bishop!” Using her full name did work. She stopped immediately and looked at you. You giggled at her. “You need to stop worrying about that. I want to marry you, not the ring. I don’t need any rings, just you, okay?” Kate looked at you as if looking for clarification, then she cutely tilted her head and pouted and that just made you want to kiss her.

“I know, but I really want to get you a ring. You deserve that, you deserve a big proposal with-with rose petals, a nice dinner and a big diamond ring, not this. A girl who proposes in her car without even a paper ring.” She started having doubts about herself; you could see that. “I love that girl. I don’t need some rich and stuck-up proposal. I couldn’t have imagined it better than this.” You made sure she was looking at you as you said that to her. That was the truth, so you wanted her to believe you.

“Okay.. okay.” Kate clears her throat, then adds. “So, shall we go and get married now?” you both smiled at each other. Reaching for seat belts in order to fasten them, you answered. “Yes, we shall.”

 

It turned out it wasn’t that easy. You had to have witnesses. After some thinking, you reached out to Aunt Yelena, while Kate called Clint. Although it took some convincing to get the old man to drive here because, as he said, he doesn’t want to ‘deal with angry mothers anymore’, whatever that means, he might have been referring to Laura, but you’re not sure; you also think that he really just didn’t want to move his three letters.

Well, eventually, he agreed. Yelena didn’t need this much convincing; well, she didn’t need to be convinced at all. She said she’d be happy to piss off her sister; she mentioned something about getting back at her for borrowing, without her knowing, one of her vests and then destroying it on a mission, but you could have misheard.

Kate got anxious again, but this time about clothing. Both of you wore casual clothes, not right for a marriage. So that’s how you got dragged by Kate for a little shopping. It took you both a while, but in Kate's eyes it was worth it, because now you and her looked good.

It wasn’t long before you and Kate signed up the marriage license with Clint and Yelena next to you, and you were good to go. You bit your goodbyes with them, then made your way to Kate’s car. While you were both sitting, the car still not turned on, you realized what just happened. ”We just got married.” Kate stated firmly, her face not showing any emotions while looking straight ahead. You turned your head to look at her. ”We just got married.” She repeated, now with a big smile on her face. Also turning her head to you, she started to giggle. Hearing her laughter, you started to giggle yourself, also not believing that this is real.

Kate leaned in and brought her hand to the back of your neck to pull your foreheads together. ”You are my wife.” She said breathlessly. ”I am your wife.” You said in the same tone. Your wife pulled you into a long, passionate kiss. ”Damn, your moms are really gonna kill me now” Kate said after pulling away. This caused you both to burst out laughing. “Well, if this is my last hour, how about we make the best of it and go back to mine, my wife?“ She asked with a smirk on her face, clearly insinuating on doing something really not PG. Your cheeks turned slightly red, but you matched her smirk. “Lead the way, my wife.”

You’re sure that your superhero broke a few laws driving you to her apartment. Both of you are very eager and excited for what awaits you there. So as soon as the door was closed, Kate pushed you into it, trapping you between the wooden surface and her. Hands flying to your hips, squeezing and pushing more against the hardwood. Lips mingling with yours fastily, tongue pushing into your mouth, exploring the inside. Next thing you know, she was tagging at your pants, trying to take them off. Once you’re free from them, Kate’s hands traveled from your hips, over your ass, stopping on it for a second to squeeze, and then went downwards to the back of your thighs. With one swift movement, you were pulled from the door for a second, only to be pushed against it again, but this time with your legs around Kate’s waist.

Her kisses moved from your lips to nip at your neck, for sure, leaving lots of hickeys. You leaned your head back, revealing more skin on your neck. The particular bite on your pulse point made you moan. Your hands flew to her hair in order to pull her closer. With a mind full of thoughts about Kate, you breathlessly conhered some words. “B-bedroom… now.” you gasped when suddenly Kate pulled you both away from the door and started to blindly walk towards the bedroom. While you were stumbling across the living room, you threw your bag on the table, or at least you hoped it landed on the table, not caring about stuff inside. Though you’re pretty sure that your bag opened from the impact.

After some struggling, your back hit the bed with Kate on top of you. Lips once again connected, Kate started grinding her hips on yours. Suddenly, you felt it—the hardness underneath her pants. “Is-is that-?” You stuttered, then moaned because Kate pressed herself harder on you, so you feel it against your core.

“Mhm, a new one.” Kate smirked at you and again pushed her hips into yours, making you gasp. She leaned down to your neck and started to mark you everywhere she could. When she got to your pulse point, you moaned and gripped the back of her head, burying your fingers into her hair, pulling her closer. You feel hands tagging at your shirt. With your arms up, Kate swiftly takes off your shirt, leaving you in only your panties and bra. However, it doesn’t take long for her to also remove these undergarments. “So pretty.. so delicious, just for me to taste.” Kate’s hands started to wander.

Wanting to see more of Kate, you unbuttoned her shirt, slid it down her arms and then the shirt joined the rest of the clothes on the ground in the bedroom. Your hands immediately flew to her arms to feel her strong muscles. Then, to her abdomen, where she clearly has abs. “One of many perks of being an Avenger; lots of training that makes you have these muscles.” You stare in awe, biting your lip.

Kate leaned down again and nipped at your skin, making her path from your neck to your chest. She took your left nipple in her mouth, sucking on it hard, while her other hand squeezed the right breast. After some time, she switched the breasts and started sucking on the right one. ”Please, Kate… I want you.. now.” you pleaded.

Not wanting to tease you, just this night, Kate pulled away and took off the rest of her clothes, revealing the strap-on. “Purple?” You chuckle a little.

“What? I look good in purple.” Kate grinned and once again got on top of you. The strap was rubbing against your clit, making you shut your eyes and groan softly. “You want my cock, sweetheart?” Kate asked, rubbing her strap even harder.

“Yes! Please, Kate, I want your cock. Please fuck me.” You desperately rumble, your mind full of thoughts of how she can ruin you. This strap is definitely bigger than what you were used to, but you are willing to try this, considering how wet you are for her.

Kate leaned to your ear to whisper. “As you wish, babygirl.” Right after that, she harshly pushed at least a half of the strap in your pussy. Your moans and grunts get louder as she continues to slide in. “Fuck, baby. Always so tight for me.” You shut your eyes tightly as you feel more and more fuller with every second.

Finally, your hips were flush against each other. Your breath is more ragged as you try to get used to the fullness. “Kate… s-so full, fuck, so big” you moaned. After a few more seconds, Kate started to pull out and thrust her hips forward, causing you to let out a loud scream.

Your moans only encouraged Kate to keep going. The thrusts were much harder now; it made your head spin. You wrapped your arms around her back, burying your nails into it. Kate hissed into your ear from the harsh scratches, but it fuelled her to give you more. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slapping of your hips with every thrust. “Kate- shit… I’m going to-” you are cut off by a hoarse groan that bursts out of your throat when Kate hits one particular place.

“It’s okay. Let go for me, baby.” Kate said breathlessly. That was all you needed, and soon your eyes rolled back. You arched your back into her, threw your head back and let out a silent scream. Kate was still thrusting into you as you were falling over the edge. 

After you calmed down, she slowly pulled out of you. You groaned at the emptiness as you were trying to catch your breath. Kate was peppering your body with soft kisses. When she got up to your face, you smiled at each other. “That- that was incredible.” you said panting. “Glad you liked it, my love.” she pecked your lips. With a swift move, you turned you both over, so Kate was now on her back with you on top of her. “Let me return the favor.” you grinned and leaned down to kiss her.

 *****

You were lying on the bed with your head on Kate’s chest. Your arm around her abdomen, leg between hers. Kate has her arm wrapped around your bare body. The covers were loosely thrown on both of you as you were lying together in your own, quiet bubble.

“You know… I was thinking..” Kate started. You turned your head to look at her and wait for her to continue. “Since we are married now” this made you smile. You still can’t believe that this is real and that Kate is your wife now. “Maybe, if you want… you could move in with me.” your eyes widen at her words. A smile spread across your face. You lifted slightly from the bed to move closer to her and give her a passionate kiss in which you couldn’t stop smiling. The same goes for Kate.

When you pulled out, you looked her in the eyes. “Of course I want to move in with you!” you both had such big smiles on your faces that your cheeks started to ache. “Great! I was scared for a second that you wouldn’t want that. What will you tell your moms, though? Maybe you should-” as Kate continued to rumble, your heart stopped. Shit. Your moms, they don’t know anything, AND you said you were going for a walk, which is now about six hours long. Shit, shit. Your phone has been on silent since you went to get married. They probably called you and texted you a million times.

“Shit, my moms! They have to wonder where I am!” you said cutting her off and quickly got out of bed, panicking. You throw on yourself one of Kate’s hoodies, put on your panties and some Kate’s shorts. At the corner of your eye, you see that Kate also got up and started to get dressed. You left the bedroom and headed towards the living room, where you left your phone in the bag. Just as you walked into the living room space, your heart stopped at the sight.

So, now you know the story behind why an angry witch and a pissed-off ex-assassin broke into the apartment and were standing in the living room. They had their hands on their hips, with scowls on the faces. “Mom, mama-” You were immediately caught off. “Don’t mamas us!” Wanda scoffed. She rarely got angry, she preferred to do things the calm way. However, when she did get angry, oh boy, hide if you can.

They had every right to be angry and you knew it. So you chose to stay silent this time. “Do you want to explain where you’ve been?” Nat asked with her jaw locked tight. “And why, when I called Clint to ask if he knew something about your whereabouts, he said that he doesn’t want to get involved anymore?” this time Wanda spoke. “Or why, when I called Yelena to ask if she knew something, she just laughed and hung up?” Natasha added. It was as if they talked it through, because they were literally changing after one sentence. It was creepy. “You lied to us, went radio silent and met up with the one person we specifically told you not to see!”

The person, as if on cue, came into the living room and stopped dead in tracks. “Mrs. Romanoff and..” Kate cleared her throat “Mrs. Romanoff.” She stood right next to you, her eyes locked on anything but your moms. The thick tension could be cut with a knife. You didn’t know what they would do now, with Kate next to you.

“And here’s the person in the flesh.” stated firmly Natasha, her eyes shooting daggers at Kate. “Mom, please.” you pleaded. You didn’t want this place to turn into a war zone. “Please what? Y/N, we've forbidden you from seeing her and the next thing you did after that was see her! You don-”

“What is that?” Wanda stopped Natasha from further shouting at you as she noticed something. You turned your head where she was looking, and your face turned pale. Wands was looking at the coffee table where you had thrown your bag earlier. The bag opened from the impact and some things fell out of it on the table. One of the things was your and Kate's marriage license. Your heart stuck in your throat as Wanda walked closer to it. She reached for the paper, picked it up and for a moment there was silence. But only for a short moment.

“You got married?!” Wanda shouted, turning to face you and Kate. Now she was really, really angry. Like the kind of angry when she has her eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed so that they are almost touching, and the worst, the little tilt in her head. Now you were fucked. “You what?!” this time Natasha shouted.

“I-... we just..” you wanted to say something, but didn't know what. What do you say in a situation like that, though? It was tough, but fortunately Kate noticed that you were struggling and decided to speak for you. She reached her hand to yours and interlaced your fingers together. Kate cleared her throat, mentally preparing herself for anything that could happen after she spoke. “We did. We got married today.” you didn't think that was possible, but silence was never this loud.

“Why would you do that? And without any of us knowing” Wanda spoke angrily as she handed the married license to Nat.

Natasha read the license, still not believing what she just heard. Her eyes stopped at one point. “Bishop? You changed your last name to Bishop?” Natasha asked in disbelief, interrupting Wanda. “Yeah…” you said, unsure, waiting for the explosion from your parents.

However, there is something else on their faces. Hurt? Disappointment? Sadness? You couldn't tell, but you knew you didn't like it. “Mom, mama, please don't look at me like that.” you said sadly, there is a stone in your heart. “I've never wanted to get married without you there, but I also didn’t want to marry anyone but Kate. And you specifically told me that I can't be with her… I just.. I couldn't let that happen. I just want you to be happy for me.” you reasoned, tears once again pricking in your eyes. You felt Kate's hand smoothing your back, which calmed you a little.

“Mrs. Romanoffs, I really love your daughter. You care about her safety as much as I do. I promise to keep her safe and sound.” Kate calmly said, meaning every word.

Wanda and Nat looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Soon, they turned back to face you and Kate. “Oh God..” Nat groaned, letting out a breath. “Y/N, darling, we didn't want you to feel like that; we just…” she didn't really know how to say it, so Wanda took the wheel. “We just love you so much, we want to keep you safe. However, I admit that we did go a little too far. We shouldn't get between you and Kate.” she says. Your eyes lit up a little, a small smile started to spread on your face. “Does that mean..?” you asked, still not sure you understood what they just said. “Yes, you can see Kate.”

Now you have the biggest smile on your face. You jumped up and down and then pulled your mothers in a hug, squeezing in happiness. Your moms laughed a little and hugged you back. “We love you, darling, and we are happy for you.”

“Thank you. I love you both, very much.” you grinned and pulled away from the hug. You go back to stand next to Kate, whose smile is as big as yours, and interlace your fingers.

“However,” Natasha turned to Kate with a stoic expression. “If you hurt her, I will hunt you down.” Kate started to feel a little nervous again, but tried not to show it. “Of course, I-I would never hurt her; I love her.” she rumbled quickly.

Soon, Wanda and Nat left the apartment, saying that today they will leave you and Kate alone, but tomorrow they want you both at home for dinner.

You went back to bed, lying next to each other. Both of you fell asleep in a loving embrace.

[pinkchaosnight]

so here is my adar request. basically in which the fem!reader is taken in ep 5 instead of galadriel. once in adar's tent (during ep 6) they talk and get into a heated discussion about sauron and eregion. their banter gets so intense that glûg walks inside to see if everything is okay and then they both snap at them in union and then glûg whispers something like "oh no, dad and mom are fighting" idk something humorous lol. (excuse my grammar mistakes - English is not my native language). i need tension like air.

omg , tysm for this ask. its absolutely flawless. i enjoyed this ep so much! i have initially thought of doing a small imagine but somehow it turned it into this long, also i diverged from the ask slightly too🥹. i have changed some dialouges and scenarios. i hope you enjoy them!

pull of threads - (adar × fem!reader)

summary: dinner with adar is never straightforward is it? when especially you are captured and essentially sort of a prisoner?

(reimagined rings of power ep 6 where reader gets captured instead of Galadriel)

pairing : adar x female!reader

notes : english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for the errors you might encounter. i have not properly edited, so please let me know if you find any error.

the uruk leader seated across you is poking his food with a vigour, as he regards you with suspicion. humiliation might be the nicest thing you can describe about what you are feeling right now, (along with some other feelings too but you blatantly ignore them) being captured as a prisoner. you were Lady Galadriel's friend and the her aide, until a few months ago when you retired from your post. everything that was going on was so overwhelming that you had to step away from your duties and that's exactly what you did. you travelled around, mostly staying in woods and forests and praying orcs don't chase you. you almost succeeded too until you recieved a letter from Lady Galadriel stating she needed your help, now that they are going to warn Celebrimbor about Halbrand being Sauron. you were reading her letter without a care for your surrounding that unfortunately resulted in you being captured and brought to the uruk camp. and thats why you were currently in this situation, being seated in front the uruk leader. Adar, he is called, as you recall from the days Lady Galadriel captured him many months ago.

the tent which was made up of dirty rags, was surprisingly warm, with a fireplace and a huge table laden with food. combinations of food that seems almost a disgrace to the plates it hold ; with berries, onions and meat. whoever did the dinner should be tossed into the cliff. the said uruk leader was now biting into a piece of meat from god knows what, as he watches you. if he is hoping to catch something from your expression he has another thing coming for him, as you keep your face as emotionless as you can, although Eru knows for how long.

" from my brief time in your Commander's capture, I guessed she was intent on finding Sauron. almost consumed by the thought of it, one might say." his words sliced the depth of silence that hanged between you and him.

" former Commander. and it is none of your concern what her intentions are. who are you to know her mind? you who could not even resist the allure of Sauron's words?" you reply in a monotonous way, hoping he doesn't find anything there.

Adar stops as he hears those words, as he slowly puts down the piece of food he is chewing. he remembers the first time he saw you; being chained up after being captured by Galadriel. all around him was dark but you came with a jar of water and a loaf of bread for him, when everybody was kind of neglecting him, except for when they needed information and torturing. that simple act of kindess and the conversions that ranged from 'hello' to a simple 'have a good day' that followed from your side warmed what little was left of his beating heart. he remember you being firercely loyal to Galadriel yet having a mind of your own to speak if necessary. he remembers how you disagreed when your commander spoke of his children as slaves. and above all, he remembers how you exuded a sense of warmth in that cold space.

now he looks at you in surprise as he leans forward "former?"

you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. after all, how could you let him know that one of the reasons why you left the army and being her secondin command, was his words? the converstion between him, Lady Galadriel and you, when he was captured really messed up your perceptive. other elves could not see but you saw what he was trying to say; that the uruks were just as worthy of lives and living as other creations of Eru, as each had a heart. you remember disagreeing with Lady Galadriel when she mentioned them as slaves, and Adar's eyes flashing in you direction, with ambiguous emotions.

shaking out of your reverie you say "yes, i am no longer her second in command, so its really useless to have me captured in here. i can offer you nothing. "

adar chuckles at your statement, as he rises from his seat and strides towards you. he stops infront of your chair, as he looks at you with an intense stare. and you couldn't help but stare back at him. those eyes, surrounded by scars and years of mutilation, made your heart ache with pain. you wonder what he was thinking, what he was plotting behind those somber eyes of his. you always wondered what happened to him after you ran away from the campsite that day. you retired and wandered in woods after that incident, with nothing to keep you company but fragments of him in your memory. love and hatred have a fine line separating them; you often heard from your friends and in those lonely nights on the woods you wandered if that is true. if you can cross that line with bravery. something that you are afraid to reveal to anyone. he was the one in your mind and on the other side of that fine line, as swirls of feeling wound up in your heart. a dangerous feeling to have for man who is going to kill you......one day.

"who says you can offer me nothing?" he says as he strides close to your face and tucks a strand of hair back. funny he did that because you had the same thought too, of brushing the loose hair of his and tucking it back. "my children found this in your bag" he says as he pulls out the scroll from a table behind you. "we know the elven army is approaching to find Sauron, in Eregion. And that has all the confirmation i want. and i know Halbrand is Sauron"

desperation washes over you as you see the scroll of paper Lady Galadriel wrote and gave you to read before she parted ways. you never got a chance to read the rest of paper as she and you went seprate ways, before you got caught by his minions.

" whatever your plan is, it is not going to work " you say with venom, as you stand up in anger (or so you thought stubbornly), coming face to face with him.

"do you know what Sauron promised me? " Adar asks you as he studies your expression flits from anger to confusion "children, he promised me children. and he made that promise into weapons of wars, my children mere tools for his gratifications, something which can be eradicated at his whims" he says, his voice a tad quite and flushed with sadness. it took all my willpower to keep my hands from reaching his and comforting him.

" you are going to kill him Eregion, aren't you?" i ask as realisation hits me a few seconds later. he moves back a few paces, widening the tantalizing distance betweeen us and doesn't reply as he keeps his back to me.

" you cannot, i think it is his plan too. i just have feeling in my heart this is exactly what he wants. for you to lead your army to him. we must ask Lady Galadriel's advice" i say as he turns and shoots me a look of disbelief.

"why should i listen to the words of someone whose race is hellbent on eradicating us from the face of this plane?" he shouts as he paces towards you, shaking with anger. "i did not capture you to hear your advice. Eregion will fall and Sauron with it" he says as closes the distance between us, trapping me between the chair and him.

"i want Sauron to fall too, i want to kill him and make sure he is permanently wiped off from this earth. but not in this way." i shriek in his face, which was merely inches apart from mine.

"i do not know why you care if i lead my army or not " he hisses as he moves back from me again, his eyes capturing my own ones in anger and perhaps sadness.

there is a tipping point for everyone's anger and you could feel his words pushing you to yours. you could no longer hold the feelings erupting inside you as you shouts." i care because this will all be ending in blooshed. i care because all my loved ones are going there and i don't want them to die. i care for the lives that will be sacrificed if you chose to follow this foolish plan of yours. and i care that something will happen to you and you will not make it out alive"

reality of the words registers in your brain as soon as the words escape your mouth. you have opened your heart and mouth and let all the dam of emotions you kept inside to turn into a river. and now you are going to suffer the consequences, preferably being submerged in those same waters, which you so kept in binds inside your now erratically beating organ.

Adar was stunned, staring at you in utter silence. his heart tingled, with the same warmth he felt months ago in your presence. his ears has always been the receiver of abuse and bad news, never the object to receive the sentiment with which you uttered the words quite a few seconds ago; words with care...and love. he slowly steps forward you, his hands unclenching from the remnant of his anger and reaching towards your face "you ....care about me.....?" his voice is a mere whisper, tinged with something you couldn't place. this goddess, this beacon of kindness care about him?

you wanted to melt into those eyes of his, that is oh so mysterious and perhaps you would have, if the tents did not flap open suddenly.

" lord father, glûg here. i heard shouts coming from outside. i was worried and just came inside to check if you are okay and if nan--" glûg stops as he sees you standing closely to his lord father. you notice his surprise being replaced with a slight smirk in your direction.

"get out" adar and you both says in unison, as you turn towards the orc in annoyance.

"certainly lord father" glûg says as turns away to exit "just lover's quarrel, lord father and naneth better make up". he exits as quickly as he can, muttering to himself.

you turn your head towards him, only to catch his eyes searching your face "yes i do care about you...." your voice is shaking but not in anger and with some other emotions you tried so hard to bury.

a flicker of emotions passes over his eyes as he glazes his vision over you "you think you are the only one who cares? why did you even think i captured you instead of your Commander, when i could have easily caught her and gotten the information too? why did you think you never encountered any orcs while you were sauntering through the woods? never have you escaped from my mind for a moment from the day we met. i tried so hard to keep every emotions i am feeling, hidden from you. but tonight i can't and i won't. i know i am a monster, an abomination for someone so kind as you. but tonight i am baring the one thing that has not been tainted by the evil , to your hands."

he places your hand on his chest, as you your eyes brim with tears. you feel his heart beating erratically, mirroring yours. "from the day you pulled me from that dark abyss, i decided that this heart will only belong to one person, to the one person this heart wholeheartedly loves."

time stops as you hears his words, it is like honey being poured into your ears. "so does mine too" you reciprocate, as you places his hands on your chest. "you are neither a monster nor an abomination. you are beautiful as Eru's any other creation. i even left the army because of you. because you keep on invading my everyday thoughts. and i kept thinking of how you are my enemy and i how i should hate you. but my heart never responded to any negative emotions, for all it had was love for you."

fianlly you can let this emotion run free, this plaguing need for him that you tried so hard to conceal. you would have stood there for eternity, for all of your immortal life, with his warm hands pressing yours into his chest. no words are exchanged betweeen you two in these seconds; no words are needed as the beating of your heart and the measure of your breath are enough to convey the feelings pouring off from both of you. he slowly closes the already miniscule distance betweeen you, as you step forward at the same time too, the tantalizing distance between your lips almost unbearable. you can feel his breath near your mouth, as your lips part with breathlessness and need. you just need to lean forward and place your mouth. you slowly reach forward, just enough to press the lips against his----

" lord father, i got a sudden report that---what is happening here?" glûg's voice rang across the tent as you and adar both turned to his direction.

" GET OUT GLÛG" you both cries in unison as poor glûg scurries off, being banished from the tent second time. but not before he catches a warm smile passing over his lord father. glûg catches from his peripheral vision, of his lord father pressing a chaste kiss in your cheek before placing his forehead against yours and smiling a genuine smile, which he has never seen.

'things will be good from now on' glûg thinks as he passes over to the next tent, thinking of the elf that thawed the ice of his lord father's heart. the one his lord father told him about months; the one lord father instructed him to call naneth in the future. and the one who made his lord father whole again after eons.

extra notes - all the asks i got, i will update them by this week itself, tysm for requesting! please leave a like and reblog and if you enjoyed reading them. hope everyone have an amazing day :)