#He even has a key to your room - MUSINGS

[jaxxedup]

Just a tag dump!

[plutonianeris]

Jupiter and your Future Husband 🖤💍

Jupiter in the 1st House or Aries: Right from the jump, this is someone who’s been captivated by you the moment they saw you. You walk into a room, and their friends literally catch them staring, eyes wide, like they’ve seen a goddess. They probably say things like, "Who is that?" or "Wow, she's incredible." Jupiter in your 1st House brings someone bold and super charismatic, like a breath of fresh air. He’s got a magnetic presence and a laugh that fills the room. He’s a natural optimist who sees you as a dream come true, and he isn’t afraid to approach you with that confidence. He’ll treat you like a queen right off the bat and isn’t afraid to show the world just how mesmerized he is by you.

Jupiter in the 2nd House or Taurus: This man’s been admiring you from a distance, patiently watching, maybe liking your photos on ig. There’s this quiet, steady admiration he respects your worth and wants to add value to your life. He has this natural vibe of wanting to spoil you, make you feel safe and secure, and show you how deeply he appreciates who you are. He might have been a bit guarded with his feelings before meeting you, but you light up something in him that makes him want to open up. He’s likely successful or financially stable, and he sees you as the ultimate prize a rare gem worth cherishing.

Jupiter in the 3rd House or Gemini: This one’s the type who will slide into your DMs with the most charming, witty comments that leave you smiling (He can "rizz" you up as the kids like to say these days). He’s been captivated by the way you express yourself your thoughts, your humor, the way you speak or write. When he saw you, he was instantly hooked, thinking, “Who is she?” and feeling that pull to get to know you on a deeper level. He’s smart, curious, and probably has a way with words himself. He might’ve been a bit guarded or aloof with his emotions before, but with you, he’s suddenly willing to talk about things he never thought he’d share. You’re like his muse, and he’ll love engaging with you in deep conversations.

Jupiter in the 4th House or Cancer: There’s something so soul-deep about this connection. He’s seen you as someone he wants to come home to from the very start, even if he couldn’t fully understand why. When you post a story or picture, he gets this little pang of warmth, imagining a future where he’s in the background of that photo, sharing those cozy moments with you. He’s gentle, warm-hearted, and would go out of his way to make you feel safe. With a deep sensitivity, he might’ve been through some emotional growth before you came along, learning to trust his heart again. With you, he feels seen, understood, and healed.

Jupiter in the 5th House or Leo: He’s been watching your social media and sees you as this radiant, captivating spirit. You’re a mystery he wants to uncover, someone who brings color and excitement into his world. He’s got a playful energy and is incredibly drawn to how unique and confident you are. When he saw you, he probably had to do a double take, thinking, “She’s the one.” He might be a bit of a creative himself, someone who values self-expression, and he’s absolutely infatuated with the way you live life so openly. He sees you as someone who’ll make his life feel like a never-ending adventure, full of joy, creativity, and romance.

Jupiter in the 6th House or Virgo: Here’s someone who admires the way you move through life with purpose and care. He’s low-key been following your life for a while, admiring your routines, your kindness, your dedication. You’re like his inspiration to be better, healthier, more grounded. He’s deeply thoughtful, maybe even a bit shy, but he’s incredibly genuine. He wants to work for your love, showing up in quiet ways that make a difference little acts of service that show you how much he cares. He’s got this gentle, nurturing vibe, and he’s completely mesmerized by how put-together you are. He sees you as a grounding force, someone who brings meaning and beauty into everyday life.

Jupiter in the 7th House or Libra: Your future husband has been patiently waiting for someone exactly like you. He’s the type who believes in true partnership and harmony, and he’s drawn to your warmth, your grace, the way you make everything feel balanced. When he saw you, he felt that instant connection, like this is it. He’s a natural romantic, the type who wants to hold your hand through life and be your biggest supporter. Before you, he might have struggled with relationships, maybe keeping people at arm’s length, but with you, he wants to go all in. You’re the missing piece he’s been searching for, the one he’s been ready to commit to forever.

Jupiter in the 8th House or Scorpio: Intense, magnetic, and maybe a bit mysterious, this man feels like destiny. The minute he saw you, he felt something deep shift, like he’d known you in another lifetime. He’s probably been through some serious emotional growth, and he sees you as someone who lights up the darkest corners of his life. He’s captivated by your strength and your vulnerability, the way you’re not afraid to be real. He’s not just looking for a fling he wants that soul-deep connection, the one that transforms both of you. When you’re together, it feels like a cosmic bond, something otherworldly and electric.

Jupiter in the 9th House or Sagittarius: This man has a wandering spirit, and when he saw you, he felt like he’d finally found home. He’s captivated by your mind, your ideals, and the way you’re constantly seeking knowledge. You’re like this beautiful enigma to him, someone who expands his world and makes him feel alive. He might’ve been a bit of a loner before, always chasing dreams, but you make him want to settle down. He’ll see you as his partner in adventure, the one who’ll travel the world with him and dive into life’s biggest questions. You’re his inspiration, his muse, the one who makes him want to reach new heights.

Jupiter in the 10th House or Capricorn: The moment he saw you, he knew he’d met someone who’d change his life. He’s got big goals, and he’s deeply inspired by your strength and ambition. You’re like this beautiful force, someone who embodies grace and resilience, and he’s in awe. He’s probably known about you for a while, admiring your accomplishments and how you carry yourself. He sees you as someone he can build an empire with, someone who brings out the best in him. With you, he feels like he’s found a partner who’s not only supportive but challenges him to grow. You’re the queen to his king, the one who completes his vision.

Jupiter in the 11th House or Aquarius: This man sees you as his best friend and lover all in one. He’s been quietly admiring you for a while, possibly through mutual friends or social circles. There’s this warmth to you, a kindness that he finds irresistible. When he first saw you, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to meet someone who just gets him. He wants to build something meaningful with you, something that goes beyond just the two of you. He’s drawn to your vision, your compassion, and he knows that with you, he’s found a true partner who’ll stand by his side through anything.

Jupiter in the 12th House or Pisces: Mysterious and deeply spiritual, this man feels like he’s known you across lifetimes. He’s the type who watched you from afar, maybe even feeling shy about approaching because he sees you as someone almost out of reach, like a dream. He’s been through his own journey, and he sees you as a guiding light, someone who brings meaning and beauty to his life. You’re like his secret muse, his angel in disguise. He’s mesmerized by the way you bring peace to his world, and he’s willing to put in the work to make you feel loved, safe, and cherished.

Jupiter Aspects and Your Future Husband's Qualities❤️‍🔥

Jupiter-Sun Aspects: With Jupiter and the Sun intertwined, this is someone who radiates warmth a natural optimist who just lights up any space they walk into. From the moment they meet you, they’re captivated by your energy, drawn to your glow. They’re probably fun loving and generous even to a fault, going out of their way to make you feel cherished. Imagine a partner who’s always planning little surprises, making you laugh, and showing you that life together can be an adventure. They’ll adore celebrating you and cheering on your dreams like they’re their own. With them, you’ll feel like you’re with your number-one fan.

Jupiter-Moon Aspects: These aspects bring such a beautiful, nurturing energy. When Jupiter meets the Moon, it creates someone who’s deeply attuned to your feelings, always wanting to make sure you feel loved and secure. This is the partner who brings you coffee in bed, senses your mood shifts before you even say a word, and makes you feel like you’re the center of their world. They’re the type who knows how to comfort you, who values a soulful connection and will create a safe space for your heart to flourish. With them, it’s a love that feels soft, deep, and truly devoted.

Jupiter-Saturn Aspects: When Jupiter meets Saturn, it brings a blend of optimism and groundedness. This partner believes in lasting love and isn’t here to play games. They might have an “old soul” vibe, or maybe life has taught them the beauty of stability and commitment. With you, they’re looking for something real, something solid. They’re probably successful or hardworking, and they’ll want to share that journey with you. They believe in a love that’s both supportive and fun a partner in adventure and a rock to lean on. With them, you’ll feel cherished in a love that’s balanced and true.

Jupiter-Mercury Aspects: If you’re drawn to a Jupiter-Mercury energy, you’re in for a partner who’s totally captivated by your mind. They see you as the perfect partner for exploring life’s wonders, both mentally and physically. Imagine someone who’s a natural conversationalist, sending you thoughtful texts, getting lost in deep conversations, and admiring the way you see the world. They’ll be there cheering you on as you follow your passions, and they’ll value growth and learning together. With them, life is a journey of shared curiosity, where each day brings something new to talk about, dream up, or discover.

Jupiter-Uranus Aspects: With Jupiter and Uranus joining forces, this partner is anything but ordinary. They’re a free spirit, maybe a bit of a rebel, and definitely unconventional when it comes to love. They might have a unique style or quirky hobbies that add spark to your connection. They’re the kind who sees love as an adventure, encouraging you to break boundaries and be unapologetically yourself. With them, romance won’t follow the usual script it’ll be spontaneous, thrilling, and always fresh. You’ll feel like you’re on a journey of self-discovery together, each step bringing out the most authentic sides of each other.

Jupiter-Pluto Aspects: Jupiter-Pluto aspects bring a magnetic, transformative energy. There’s an intensity in the way they love, a feeling that this connection is life-changing. They’re captivated by your depth and will want to know every piece of you, never settling for surface-level. There’s an aura of power about them whether it’s in their presence, their drive, or their passion for life. They see love as a force that empowers both of you, and they’ll support you fiercely through everything. This is a partner who sees you as their equal, a person they’ll build a world of strength, resilience, and passion with.

Jupiter-Neptune Aspects: When Jupiter meets Neptune, romance feels like a fairytale. This is someone who’s deeply compassionate and has a gentle, dreamy quality. They’re likely lost in their own world sometimes, and they see love as something magical. With them, life will feel like a daydream you’re not just a partner, you’re their muse. They’re the type to hold your hand under the stars, write you poetry, and make you feel like you’re living in a beautiful, endless love story. In their eyes, love is soulful, tender, and otherworldly, and they’ll make you feel like you’re living in a fantasy come to life.

Jupiter-Venus Aspects: This aspect is all about pure romance and indulgence. With Jupiter enhancing Venus’s charm, this is someone who loves to spoil you. They’re affectionate, thoughtful, and not afraid of grand gestures. Imagine someone who’s always surprising you with flowers, planning sweet dates, and making you feel adored. They have a big heart and see you as the person who makes life so much sweeter. With them, you’ll experience a love that’s joyful, warm, and overflowing. They’ll treat you like royalty, not just with gifts but with the kind of genuine adoration that makes you feel like you’re their world.

[celestialprincesse]

Ex bf!Simon pt.2 - nsfw 🖤✬

Simon keeps a hand on you the whole way home, in a far grumpier mood than he was when he picked you up at the beginning of the evening, his grip that little bit tighter around you.

"You're mad." You observe, pouting up at him once you've removed your helmet, crossing your arms as you wait for him to prop his bike up on the stand. "M' not mad, poppet." Simon reassures you, fingers brushing yours when you hand back the helmet, making a conscious effort to soften his features when he catches your wide eyed gaze.

As always, he walks you to the door of your flat with a hand on the small of your back, withdrawing your keys from his pocket where you'd put them for safekeeping.

He doesn't even think when he walks in behind you, closing the door behind him and kicking off his shoes, just like he used to do back when you were still together.

"You look cold." He observes in that blunt way he always does, making you chuff. "Sorry?" You hum in response, turning to face him, rolling your eyes when you see his gaze locked unabashedly on your boobs, and the way your dress does a poor job of hiding the way your nipples have hardened on the windy trip home. "Perv." The insult rolls off your tongue easily, has him coming and grabbing you by the tops of your biceps, rubbing them with his own hands to warm you up. "Slut." He flings back just as easily. "You're making me horny." You deadpan, figuring you might as well make a joke of it. "You always were a little freak." Simon muses, distracting you as he noses at the base of your jaw, causing you to tip back your hear obediently.

You've barely even stumbled over the threshold of your bedroom when he's trying to navigate the complicated straps and clasps of your dress, grumbling to himself in the process. "You want some help there, Einstein?" You coo sarcastically as he practically herds you to your bed in the middle of the room. All it takes is a little taunting about how an experienced SAS Lieutenant can't work around some flimsy fabric and he's pushing you down under him, ripping it with his teeth. "Si!" You screech indignantly, all whilst he looks incredibly pleased with himself from where he's propped up on his forearms above you. "Y' look better with it off."

When he kisses down the dip between your boobs, one big hand coming up to knead at the doughey flesh, you're caught between a giggle and a moan, legs coming to wrap around his waist whilst he thumbs at the already damp crotch of your lacy underwear. "Already wet f'me?" He coos in that condescending way that has your thighs tightening around his broad hips. "Have been all night." You admit, feeling far less shame than you should at admitting that you still get horny from being in the same space as your ex. "Attagirl." He grunts lazily, giving you no warning when he slides a calloused hand into your panties, thumbing at your clit as though testing the waters. He can't help but grin as your back bows against the plushy mattress of your bed from the touch, the same as always.

You're already a whining mess from just his fingers alone, tummy coiled tight and face flushed in that way that he's missed so much. "Simon.." Your little needy mewls of his name have him kissing his way back up your stomach, loosely tangling his fingers with your own. "Want me to fuck you, baby?" He murmurs, genuinely wanting to make sure that you're comfortable.

He'd be perfectly happy to sit here for hours fingering and licking away at you without so much as freeing his painfully hard cock from the confines of his jeans.

"UhHuh." You babble pathetically, looking down at him with glassy eyes where he rests his chin on your hipbone, pressing appreciative little kisses there. "You sure?" He double checks, triple checks, even, just to be sure that you're happy, comfortable - always his priority. "Simon." You huff when he remains still at your waist. "Just checkin' poppet, don't want you getting all shy on me."

His dick is so hard it looks actually painful, and Simon smiles lazily as you gaze at him like the Adonis you've always seen him as. Beautiful in a way that you can't find the words to explain.

"I missed your dick." You mutter as he pumps his shaft a few times, not that he needs to considering how rock hard he is - just showing off, the cocky bastard. "Missed you too, baby." He teases back as he aligns his tip with your entrance, making you bite your lip in anticipation. He keeps one large hand at the curve of your waist as he pushes himself inside, stopping you from squirming away at the stretch, his thumb brushing soothing circles against the soft skin there. "Doin' so good. Look't you takin' me so well." He coos as you feel him bottom out, eyes squeezing shut, only opening after he sets a languorous pace with a few slow thrusts.

You only get whinier, more needy as he presses his nose below your ear, whispering praises of how perfect you are, how good you look under him.

He has you cumming at an almost embarrassing speed, needing no guidance when he hooks your knees over his shoulders, his tip rocking up against your g-spot repeatedly until he feels you squeeze around him with a little squeak that he remembers all too well.

He works you through it, getting closer to his own orgasm when you tighten around his length, gripping at the sheets and the hand he offers you as you tumble over the edge, missing the first time he asks you where you want him. "Need y' to tell me baby. Hm? Where'd you want it?" "Inside." You give a pathetically breathless whine, looking up at his furrowed brows and sweat glistened chest. "Y' sure? Need you to be sure." "M' on the pill." You murmur, eyes fluttering blissfully shut when he shoots ropes of thick cum up into you, watching adoringly as you take him.

He's oh so gentle when he pulls out, making his way to the bathroom to clean himself up, returning with a warm washcloth, peppering kisses on your thighs and lower belly as he wipes away the residue.

Simon sleeps with you tucked up against his chest that night, a hand settled protectively around your waist as he listens to the steady rise and fall of your breath, breathing in the smell of your shampoo.

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

1.1k of filth😚

Tagging those who wanted to be mentioned in a part 2, here u are my loves 💕

@whos-fran @mishaglass

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 36. an overwhelming realisation

(wc: 2.601 but its worth it TRUST ME..)

it was only around 17:30 when karina, minjeong and you had finally made it back to your apartment complex. even though you initially didn’t plan on purchasing anything, you had returned back bags full of clothing and whatnot as the two had decided to shower you with birthday gifts. of course you had protested, they just didn’t care.

“my legs feel so sore.” you humoured in slight pain, leaning against the the wall of the elevator. “at least we had fun, right?” and minjeong was right. you responded back with a small smile and nod, changing your view to karina who was stuck on her phone. “who are you texting?” you questioned. karina hummed in response, looking up before pushing her phone into her pocket. “no one.” she casually answered back.

with sudden movement, karina had reached forward and tugged the shopping bags out your hands, leaving you barely any time to register it. “i’ll bring these to your room, minjeong has a present for you in her room so you should get off on the third floor with her.” karina suggested, reaching back to grab your purse too. the elevator’s door had opened, leaving you not much choice as karina urged the two of you out before pressing the close button.

you watched the lift go up to the fourth floor and turned to minjeong with a dumbfounded stare. “what was that about?” you mused with a slight laugh. minjeong smiled back at you, nodding her head down the corridor of the third floor. “lets go.” you wondered what both their issues were as minjeong was already walking ahead of you without any other words following.

instead of words, it was you that was following her and you couldn’t help but think there was something off about the silence minjeong remained in. you two reached her door and she turned back to look at you. “i forgot my keys at jaemin’s place, can you get them for me?” she requested with a slight plea, already holding you by the shoulders and pushing you towards jaemin’s door.

again, you were left with no other choice but to comply. jaemin’s room was right next to hers anyways, and you questioned why in the world she couldn’t get it herself. you knocked on his door, and the sound of muffled voices infiltrated your hearing before it went quiet. ‘come in’ was all you heard after, the voice being nothing like jaemin’s distinguishing one. you hesitated, but eventually opened the door to enter jaemin’s dimly lit apartment.

it took you by surprise, the way the dark room had lit up and a chorus of cheers erupted as you entered. your eyes scanned the whole room that had been filled by your 3rd and 4th floor neighbours, all carrying a variant of party decorations. you were even more surprised to see mark and rei, both of them pulling you into the room. “happy birthday (—)!” rei cheered, dragging you to the middle of jaemin’s living room.

at a loss for words, you just gaped at your surroundings, a warmth swelling in your chest. “this wasn’t needed.” you shied away, too embarrassed by all the sudden attention on you. mark, who had found a spot right next to you, threw his arm around your shoulder. “of course this is needed, i’m glad jaemin didn’t listen to your words.” you hadn’t even noticed him slyly slipping a party hat on your head, because something else caught your attention.

“jaemin? this was his idea?” majority confirmed your question, and mark added that ‘both jaemin and karina planned this, they really put effort into it.’ and the surge of emotions you felt as you saw jaemin exit his kitchen with a cake in his grip were enough to almost bring you to tears. he had placed the cake down on the coffee table, carrying a small grin on his face as well as a party hat of his own. his eyes locked with yours a few seconds later.

“(—)! i know you said that you didn’t wanna do anything for your birthday, but i thought it would be nice to spend your first birthday in this apartment with everyone else.. i even invited mark and rei!” jaemin rambled. “i hope you don’t mind.. i also didn’t have time to bake the cake myself so i hope you don’t mind cake from the-”

jaemin almost toppled over from the force you attacked him with. you hugged him with the biggest smile you’ve ever had, almost choking him in the process. “this is so sweet of you jaemin, both you and karina are the best.” you took a step back, placing a hand over your stupidly huge smile. feeling the arms of someone else around your shoulder, you were met with karina who planted a chaste kiss on your cheek. “happy birthday (—), i hope you’re happy today.” it was rare that you’d see karina smile so big, but the smile on her face as she squished you into her for a hug was something you wish you’d see more often.

it was enough to finally bring you tears.

you could hear both mark and who you assumed to be jungwoo, laughing. “no way you’re actually crying.” mark asked in disbelief, though the comforting feeling of his hand rubbing up and down your back showed that it was nothing more than a friendly tease. you really couldn’t help it, and as you pulled away from karina with your eyes filled with tears, you wondered what you had done to gain such friends who’d go out of their way to plan a surprise party for you.

“you’re going to make me cry too.” rei sulked, an endearing smile on her face as she hugged you from the side. jaemin agreed, and if you looked closer, you could see the way his eyes had threatened to gloss a little. he had walked over to you, wrapping his arm around you. “i’m glad you like it, once again happy birthday! and i’m sorry for all the trouble i’ve caused you but i’m glad you’re still sticking with me despite all that.” jaemin also wore an endearing smile on his face.

“this is getting sappy.” jisung cringed from across the room. haewon pushed him aside in return, kissing her teeth at his remark. “let them have their little sentimental moment before we celebrate her birthday.” she muttered warningly. “happy birthday (—)!” isa exclaimed, and a chain reaction of birthday wishes from the rest soon followed after.

“lets cut the cake now.” mark announced right after, already reaching down to the coffee table. jaemin had left your side and rushed to the kitchen to get the utensils as well as paper boards. it gave you time to take a look at the room, it was decorated nicely and everyone was seemingly enjoying their time as they conversed over the soft music playing in the background.

it was too perfect to be to true, though something felt missing. someone was definitely missing.

“we invited him but he said he had other plans, don’t think too much about it.” as if she could read your mind, rei who was still beside you reassured you with a rub to your shoulder. your head turned to her, surprised that she could tell that you were specifically looking for him. you nodded in acceptance. she was right, after all, today was about you, donghyuck shouldn’t be a thought when you were surrounded by all the people you loved.

but it wasn’t that easy, and every now and then, your mind would wander to donghyuck’s whereabouts, as well as his words. he said he would remember your birthday, and all you could wonder for the remainder of the night was how much truth those words really held.

“so i just knock on her door and give her this and the letter?” jaehyun repeated in confirmation, and donghyuck nodded. “just wish her a happy birthday. you can improvise the rest.” donghyuck instructed while he stood in front of jaehyun, grabbing onto his hand before sliding an envelope into it. “tell her to not read it until you’re gone.”

“and do you want me to tell her this is your doing?” jaehyun asked as he started to step towards the door. donghyuck thought about it for a while, before shrugging. “only if she asks.” the response made jaehyun laugh, who’s hand was now on the door handle. “she’s not gonna believe her eyes.” donghyuck claimed with a grin, checking the time on his phone. “i think she came back upstairs like twenty minutes ago, you can go now.” haechan walked over towards jaehyun before patting him on the back. it was their last interaction before jaehyun exited the door and turned to stand right in front of yours.

in those twenty minutes in your room, you had time to come down from the high you were on. you had checked your phone to see if donghyuck had texted you anything, the time already nearing 11 pm, but there was nothing, and you’re not sure if you expected it or are disappointed because you didn’t.

a knock on your door was what broke your train of thoughts, and your first thought was that it must be one of your neighbours. your second thought was unfortunately donghyuck, and it was probably that assumption that made you rush to your front door, heart beating in what you sadly can only assume was excitement.

it wasn’t donghyuck, though you wished it was him even more now. you could feel your stomach drop as you stood face to face with none other than jaehyun himself, the guy carrying a soft smile which displayed his dimples. your heart went from not beating at all, to beating erratically, your breath being anything but regular. were you perhaps dreaming? “you’re (—) right?”

so you were not dreaming. the realisation caused panic to form in your body, your eyes widened in the process. “you’re kidding me..” you muttered. jaehyun found it quite humorous and chuckled at your state. “i heard a lot of nice things about you from mark. its nice to finally meet you.” jaehyun’s words caused your breath to hitch. there was no way jaehyun was right in front of you.

“i’m dreaming right?” you whispered in disbelief which made jaehyun smile. “haechan guessed that you’d say something like that. since it’s your birthday, i’m here with a signed EP, as well as a special envelope that you can only open once you’re inside. i hope you enjoyed your birthday and i hope mark or haechan bring you with them to my next concert, you seem like a sweet person. it was nice meeting you (—).”

it was truly too much to comprehend. you knew that the possibility of meeting jaehyun wasn’t slim due to your connection with both mark and donghyuck, but with their persistent refusals, it was merely a wish, not something you actually expected to become reality. and as jaehyun’s words sunk in, the mention of donghyuck’s name finally caught onto your ears, a subconscious smile forming in your face from it.

“thank you so much.. seriously.” you sheepishly thanked him and jaehyun nodded, taking a step back before his hand motioned into a small wave. “its nothing, i hope you enjoy the rest of your night, happy birthday.” jaehyun bid his farewells before he turned around, leaving you inside your apartment, still not grasping the unreal experience.

you closed the door to your apartment and looked down and the items in your hands. you placed the EP carefully down before opening the envelope. the whole day was full of surprises and you were once again filled with surprise as you pulled out a small paper sheet, containing a hand written letter. the hand writing reminded you of a familiar one that you had seen before. your eyes raked over the words that donghyuck had written to you, a stupid grin stuck on your face as you did so. you weren’t even aware of how hot your body had started to feel, or how your stomach had started to tingle at the stupid words he wrote.

your feet carried you on its own and you exited your apartment with urgent steps. your hand had reached up to knock on donghyuck’s door, and as if he could sense your presence, it had opened after the second knock.

you remember the first time you met donghyuck. he wore a simple white shirt and black shorts as well as his black framed glasses, sporting copper brown hair as he opened the door for you. you remember the resentment you felt when despite his good looks, he was an asshole to you at that time.

now, stood in front of you with the same identical attire he wore that night, you felt nothing but butterflies growing in your stomach as donghyuck looked at you with a smile you could only describe as fondness. “happy birthday sweetheart, did you like my present?” you couldn’t even be annoyed at the teasing tone in his voice, or the use of that nickname you had started to grow fond of.

all you could do was lean forward and wrap your arms around him without any warning. donghyuck stumbled back, taken aback by the sudden affection but quickly reciprocated by wrapping his own arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. and if your heart wasn’t beating like crazy itself, you’d be able to feel the way donghyuck’s heartbeat matched yours perfectly.

“what’s this about?” donghyuck chuckled, remaining his hold on you. you removed yourself from the crook of his neck and took a step back, though donghyuck’s arms remained around your waist to keep you close. you had to physically hold your smile back, not wanting to go overboard. “thank you… that was really nice of you.” you whispered, too scared that your emotions would be overwhelming if you spoke any louder.

donghyuck shrugged, looking at you in amusement. “its nothing. you said you wanted to meet him so here we are.” it felt like the more he spoke, the more your body tingled and heated up. you didn’t even know how to respond back to what he said, which allowed him to continue his words. “now that you met him, does that mean you’ll finally get over this crush you have on him?”

his words were meant to be a joke, simply referencing your previous conversation. but as you continued to stare at him, taking in just how… beautiful he looked up close like this as well as the way your heart wouldn’t stop beating, there was already an answer going through your head.

you think you already have.

your brain wasn’t in the right place, and your body moved before your thoughts did. you leaned closer to him and without much thought, placed your lips on donghyuck’s. it was nothing more than a peck because your mind had registered what you had done. you’re not quite sure why you did it, maybe it was because of the overwhelming excitement you felt, or the gratitude you had, or maybe it was the fact that he had been eyeing your lips for the past five seconds leading up to that.

your excuses didn’t matter, because just as you pulled away, donghyuck pulled you right back in himself, kissing you in the halls of the 4th floor with his hand on your jaw, so soft and delicate that you thought you were dreaming.

you had definitely gotten over jaehyun.

bonus! (haechan’s love letter draft)

previous — master list — next

notes ; happy late mark day 🥳🎊 as celebration we got… ynhae realising their feelings after 36 chapters? POP THE CHAMPAGNE AND FIRE THE FIREWORKS 🔥🎉🥳🎊🍾

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

[ataraxiaspainting]

Stuck Replaying the Memory.

Yan Aventurine x GN (Avgin) Reader.

Synopsis: Life exists with the support of the Aeons, but malice is something humanity has reigned over for thousands of years.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, human trafficking, the reader is described having blonde hair and Avgin eyes, descriptions of past abuse (not from Aventurine), and major spoilers for Aventurine's backstory.

Word Count: 700.

a big thanks to my friends @harmonysanreads and @mochinon-yah for proofreading some of it!!

*~*~*~*

You were taught to keep your head down and your hopes just as low – hell seems like heaven this far beneath dead soil and skeletons of the past’s nameless victims.

Your new god makes no critique of your stance that is akin to a prayer’s and not a slave. Despite your posture being near perfect from the eleven or so past lords and ladies that would burn your skin and tongue with hot iron if you had done otherwise, you still find your posture imperfect. Impolite. There were screams and fires just moments before – your master and his new wife fleeing with guards, pleading for mercy that they had never granted to you – and then silence from outside your chamber.

*~*~*~*

“Hair like honey,” The man’s fingers brushing through your locks are cold and have long nails; the same ones that the woman caresses your scarred back with. “Eyes like jewels. Pretty rare little thing; there aren’t many of you left… If you misbehave, perhaps that number will decline even further.”

*~*~*~*

The divine starts to kneel before you – one of his hands caressing the tattoo on the side of your neck. 

It’s an odd sight; so odd that you have the urge to look up.

You don’t though, because you have been taught how not to get hurt when great beings bless you with their presence.

You hear him read your new name aloud. “Sun…”

You wince from the past memories of it being called in the places where dinner guests would populate the most on the estate. The gardens and the banquet table especially. They would gawk at you and give you all their unwanted attention. Your behavior would be evaluated and you would either be rewarded with gifts befitting that of a royal or chains befitting that of a dog.

“That isn’t your real name, right?”

 The question is raised with a tone that is often paired with your wrist, or worse your hair or ear, being tugged until you confess an answer to the presumption or question. Suspicion of treason leads to you getting charged for the crimes you did to help yourself – a small tunnel being dug with a spoon, a lockpick made from a bobby pin one of the maids put in your hair, bleeding feet from running as fast as they could carry you – most of the time you get hurt or put in a small room by yourself until you beg to be released from it.

*~*~*~*

“But if you listen, the promise to love you will never be broken.” His wife adds.

*~*~*~*

This god looks like you.

Eyes akin to a galaxy that has lost its stars. Flowing hair that reminds you of your lord’s treasure trove locked down below. There is a tattoo on his neck similar to yours, but has some imperfections that only you would notice. It says ‘Slave’ but the outline of the word seems a bit rough. The artist had an uncooperative muse it would seem.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. His tone is sweeter now – possibly from how he had taken note of the trembling you were trying so hard to hide. Your ears register his voice and your brain compares the many screaming, yelling, heinous voices from the past. The memory starts to play in your brain like an electrical shock one of the maids would give to you whenever you would do so much as to look past the doorway to the outside world.

“Kakavasha?”

“It’s Aventurine now,” Your old friend stands up holding the chain attached to your handcuffs. Something tells you they won’t come off any time soon. “We have a lot to discuss, [First].”

He swings the key in his other hand and puts it in his pocket.

“I’m not letting you go again.”

[emilys-bangs]

could i request an Emily xfem!Reader fic where they end up sharing a room while out on a case? and maybe there’s a couch or something and somehow reader falls asleep with her head on Emily’s lap? i just can’t stop imagining Emily playing with reader’s hair to help her sleep 🥺 love how you write Emily 🩵

Tysm 🫶🏼 I write gn reader, hope that's ok <3

----

fall right into me | e.p

Tags: room sharing, fluff, pining (so much pining), reader has enough hair for emily to run her fingers through—length not specified, no use of yn

Word count: 1.8k

It’s cold. You’re rubbing your skin through the wool of your sweater, stifling a yawn as Hotch walks into the motel lobby. Four keys are clutched in his hand.

“There’s only four rooms available, we’ll have to double up.” He says, and you bite your lip to keep a groan from escaping. The cold seeping in through the thin walls has made you cranky, and after a whole day spent on your feet, the thought of sharing your precious alone time with someone makes you want to slam your head into a wall.

Amongst the seven of you, three of the rooms would be occupied by pairs. That leaves one spare room.

Everyone reaches that conclusion the same time you do.

Immediately, they start squabbling over who gets the spare room, Morgan and Reid protesting sharing with each other. Emily ignores them and turns to you, gently bumping your shoulder with hers. 

“Roomies?” She whispers, her dark eyes wide.

Well, shit.

It’s not that you hadn’t shared a room with Emily before, but rather, you hadn’t ever since you’ve realized—quite inconveniently—that you’re in love with her. 

It’s hard not to be. Against your better judgment, you’d fallen for her. For the soft way she teases you, the sturdy way she has your back. The curve of her lip and the darkness of her eyes have enchanted you, swarms of butterflies turning your stomach when you get a glimpse of dimples, when you see her swoop her bangs over bottomless irises.

Her shoulder is still pressed against yours, a warm weight that seeps heat through your sweater. Sharing a room with anyone right now is an egregious thought. 

But Emily isn’t just anyone. 

You can’t help but give her a small smile, even as your heart jumps against your ribs. “Sure.”

Emily returns it, a dimple creasing in her cheek as she turns and snatches a key from Hotch, walking past him while the others continue their arguing over the spare room. You trail after her and catch up on the rickety stairs, the cold in your skin chased away at the thought of rooming with her again.

“Promise you won’t snore this time?” Emily turns to you, a teasing glint in her eyes as you walk up the steps together. They’re so narrow your shoulder has no choice but to knock into hers.

“Hey!” You complain as she lets out a low chuckle. “I was sick, I told you.” A frown drags your lips downward, but when you spot Emily’s smile, it’s all you can do to keep it in place.

You step onto the landing as she hums, twirling the key around her finger, “You did have a pretty cute sick voice.” She muses thoughtfully as her eyes skip over the few doors lining the hallway, looking for the number that matches the one etched onto the key.

Heat simmers in your cheeks. Your skin grows tight and itchy under your sweater, the sudden flush of warmth in your body making you pull your lip between your teeth.

“Ah, here it is,” Emily murmurs and approaches the door, casually fitting the key in the lock as if she didn’t just blow your whole world out of proportion with a few words.

You’re hardly looking as you follow her in, distantly taking in the two twin beds and couch while your brain replays her comment in the hallway. The thud of the door behind you doesn’t register, your blank gaze just barely taking in Emily as she claims the bed on the right.

Snap out of it, you firmly tell yourself. She’s just saying your voice was nasal. Hardly a compliment.

But your stomach is still in knots.

“I’m taking the bathroom.” Emily says. 

She’s going to take an eternity, you know, so you hum, drop your bag on the floor, and sag onto the bed next to hers. The bathroom door clicks shut and you sigh, kicking off your shoes and curling your legs into your chest as you turn sideways, your eyes catching the TV.

Exhaustion is heavy in your bones, mingling with the cold. A yawn escapes past your lips as you stare at the dark screen, distantly listening to the sound of the sink running as Emily gets ready for bed. Even as your body screams for sleep, your eyes are wide open, jumping from couch to desk to TV, restlessly taking in your surroundings as you run through the case in your head and allow the disquiet of your thoughts to run rampant.

It takes the better part of ten minutes before Emily finally walks back into the room and murmurs, “Bathroom’s free.” 

Rather sluggishly, you drag yourself off the bed and into the bathroom with another yawn. The first thing your eyes fall on is the sink, and Emily’s assorted skincare products littered around it.

The sight makes you smile. There’s glass bottles with droppers and smooth, expensive looking creams and glossy tubes with soft, pastel colored caps. You’re used to this display; serums and cleansers and moisturizers, each that she presses into her skin with a diligence that makes you wait for an upward of fifteen minutes outside the bathroom door. Your own routine is much simpler—washing your face and brushing your teeth and changing into another sweatshirt that serves as pajamas.

When you finish getting un-ready and walk back out into the bedroom, you find Emily on the couch. She’s in a worn t-shirt and sweatpants, channel surfing as she nibbles on her bottom lip. You sit next to her and try to conceal the hitch in your breath when her warm eyes slide to meet yours, the intense darkness of her gaze forcing you to look somewhere else. The freckles on her cheeks catch your attention; warm sprinkles of cinnamon that dust her skin, tiny spots nestled in the curve of her nose and the folds of her under-eyes, softly standing out against her pale complexion and bringing out the darkness of her irises.

“Any suggestions?” She murmurs as she turns back to the screen. The overhead lights are dimmed, the room blanketed in a low glow from the bedside lamps. Light from the TV washes over the two of you, throwing Emily’s features into sharp relief as she skips over channel after channel, not yet finding what she’s looking for.

“No.” You say. Forcing your gaze away from her, you turn to the TV and watch her restless browsing instead. She flips through the channels and a yawn leaves your lips, making your eyes water as you sag further into the couch. 

By some force of nature, your head falls against Emily’s shoulder.

She tenses for the briefest second before relaxing again, her shoulder collapsing beneath your head as she breathes in and out. Heart thudding wildly in your chest, you gnaw on your lip and steadfastly keep your eyes on the screen as Emily pauses on a showing of When Harry met Sally. You barely see the movie, too preoccupied with the places your body touches hers.

In the cold room, the air between you two buzzes with shared warmth. Your arm pressing against her arm, your sweatshirt rubbing against her skin; shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow. Emily exhales again, heavy enough that you feel it in your body.

Shit, you freeze. What if I’m making her uncomfortable? She probably wants me to get off—

Her hand finds its way into your hair. The muscles in your body turn into liquid as she scratches your scalp, gathers some strands of hair around her index finger.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” She asks softly. Her voice vibrates through her skin; you feel it in your bones.

When you turn your head to slot under her jaw, you smell honeysuckle. Your eyes flutter shut. “How’d ya know?”

Stupid question.

“Well,” Emily starts, and again the vibrations of her voice travel to your heart, “you’ve yawned like ten times in the car and since we’ve gotten out.” She scratches her short nails against your scalp, “Those pretty eyes of yours have started to grow distant, and you’re walking like a lifeless zombie.”

“Hmm.” You hum, latching on to the word pretty. The more she plays with your hair, twirling it gently around her finger, the more incoherent you grow, your eyes getting heavier by the second. Shit, that feels good.

“I think that’s a yes.” Her voice is amused. You can almost picture the smile on her face, gently tugging at her lips. You’re thinking you should move—by this rate you’ll definitely fall asleep on her shoulder, numbing it beyond belief—when Emily slides her fingers out of your hair.

A disappointed frown draws your brows together. The feeling doesn’t last long before she gently places her fingertips on the back of your neck, pushing carefully down until your head is in her lap.

In her lap. Your head is in her lap—

“I don’t think my shoulder’s the most comfortable place to sleep.” Emily says apologetically. Her nimble fingers slide back into your hair and she drags her nails against your scalp.

You sigh involuntarily, fog growing thicker in your brain when you feel the soft cotton of her sweatpants, the tangible warmth of her thighs beneath your cheek. You want to at least try to protest, but then her other hand lands gently on your shoulder, pinning you in place.

Well, you can’t really complain.

But you can’t fall asleep here; there’s a perfectly good bed two feet away. Forcing your heavy eyes open, you’re met with Harry and Sally at the karaoke. They’re blurry, splitting into two, but you persist.

“You a romcom kinda girl, Em?” You slur. You don’t have the energy to speak out her full name; lips growing heavy, you snap off the last two syllables and keep one sweet on your tongue.

The hitch in her breath gives her away. “No.” She says quietly. Combing over your scalp, she scratches against a spot over your ear. Goosebumps break out on your skin.

“This one’s special, though.” Her voice is hushed. Crushed velvet, you think deliriously, wrapping yourself up in the warm comfort of it, “I saw it in the theater the summer before I left for Yale.”

She starts saying something, something about popcorn and the heat and—weirdly—Hotch, but you can’t ask any questions, can’t get your eyes to open after they’ve fallen closed. Emily twirls another strand around her finger and you’re gone, sinking into the darkness of sleep faster than you can stop it.

The last thing you hear is her voice, a golden incandescence in the darkness as she lulls you to sleep.

taglist: @suckerforcate

Reblogs and comments mean the world! Lmk what you thought <3

[saintobio]

₊˚✩ starlight.

pairings. l&ds xavier, fem!reader tags. 800+ wc. jealous bf!xavier, fluff, reverse hurt/comfort, main story long awaited revelry spoilers, altered some scenes, may or may not be inspired by his tender nights memory :’) dividers by strangergraphics.

xavier isn’t exactly the happiest when you returned to linkon city after being in the n109 zone. don’t get him wrong—he’s absolutely grateful that you came back safe and whole. it’s just that… he didn’t like how your eyes sparkled when you started mentioning his greatest adversary: sylus.

you’re obviously suppressing a smile too, as you reminisce the events that occurred between you and the onychinus leader. you’re particularly giddy about that moment at the auction, it seems, where you said you had to play the part of being sylus’s partner for the night.

dammit, xavier feels his chest tightening when he imagines those scenes in his head. he wants to cover his ears badly, but has no other choice but listen intently. all he can do is listen in silence and try to bottle every spark of jealousy that ignited within him. he has to pretend that he’s happy and proud of you, but then again, he just can’t freaking ignore the way your face lit up at the mention of sylus. 

xavier sighs as you continue your enthusiastic storytelling. fine, then. he sulks to himself. just have to get this day over with.

~

date night came, and as you walk through the city garden, you notice xavier’s silence grew more pronounced. you try to engage him, but his responses are rather curt, his usual warmth replaced by a cold distance. during dinner, even his favorite hotpot couldn’t lift his spirits. he would push the food around on his plate, barely having the appetite to eat.

huh? that’s new, you muse. xavier is usually the most excited to eat hotpot on a cold day.

when he takes you to your place later that night, the tension is palpable. you know you have to bring it up at that point. otherwise, this game of silence will never end.

“xav, is something wrong?” you try to ask in a soft, comforting voice. 

but xavier only shakes his head, forcing his usual endearing smile. “nothing’s wrong. you should go to sleep.”

~

that same evening, xavier sits at his desk, staring at his laptop screen for more than an hour. his fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating before he finally types into the anonymous forum.

starlight123: what do you do if your gf keeps talking about another guy? i love her, but it’s driving me crazy. any advice?

he hits post and leans back, running a hand through his hair. the minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. then, the replies start coming in.

anonymous user: talk to her about it. anonymous user: maybe she doesn’t realize how it’s affecting you. anonymous user: communication is key, bro.

but one comment stood out, cutting through the well-meaning advice like a knife.

anonymous user: it's game over for you, man. girls like toxic boys who treat them like dirt. you're too nice. she probably already slept with him.

xavier’s heart sank.. he quickly closes the laptop, feeling an uncomfortable pang on his chest. is he really losing you to someone like sylus?

~

the next few days are torture. xavier stopped responding to your messages. he stopped commenting on your moments posts. he won’t even ask you to play kitty cards or catch plushies on the claw machines. and even if you see him around, he’s always distant, giving you brief, obligatory smiles. he still greets tara warmly, but with you, there’s always this thick wall in between. he's acting like a stranger, as if he doesn't care about you, as if he's not dating you...

agh, you can’t stand it anymore!

one night, you find yourself knocking on his door, needing desperate answers for your desperate questions.

xavier then opens the door, sweaty and out of breath. a dumbbell lay on his living room floor, and his hair is pushed back, revealing a flushed face.

“new hairstyle?” you ask, stepping inside and noticing the sudden eccentricity in his movements. “what are you doing, boyfriend?”

xavier’s cheeks are limned with a red tint as he looks away. “nothing.”

“are you trying to gain more muscles?” you press, amusement edging your voice.

at this, he lets out a defeated sigh and finally faces you. “do you prefer tall, muscular guys?” the sudden question came out of nowhere, until it was followed by another, and that’s when you started seeing the pattern. “do you… do you like bad boys more?” 

“xav, why are you asking me this?” crossing your arms, you tilt your head so his avoidant eyes would meet yours. 

“well, you can answer me first.” 

“not until you look me in the eyes!” 

still, he refuses to meet your gaze and his voice wavers with insecurity when he spoke, “it's okay, i get it. you do prefer guys like that.” his eyes stays on the floor, turning his face away. “if so, then i may not be like them, but i can still make you happy in my own little ways.”

your heart immediately melts at his words. it all makes sense now. him working out in the middle of the night, him styling his hair up, him trying to act like he doesn’t care about you—he’s trying to be sylus!

stepping closer, you chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a sweet kiss. “xavier, you’re the only one i like. i’ll never replace you.” you place another peck on his lips, then on his cheek, then on his nose. “besides, sylus is annoying. i prefer the presence of my very adorable golden retriever boyfriend!”

“you really mean it?” his puppy eyes stares at you earnestly.

your response is a confident nod. “i swear it. and, duh! lumiere is way hotter than him.”

his arms encircles your waist, holding you tightly as he lifts your chin and plants a tender kiss on your lips. the tension eventually melts away as you reassure him with your touch and your words. in that moment, all his jealousy and insecurity faded, now replaced by the warmth of your love. “you’re mine,” he reminds, nose nuzzling into yours. “i don’t want to share you with anyone else.” 

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes,

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Just a quick thought: Yandere!Sunday who is a galactic pop superstar.

He sees you at one of his concerts during a slower song when he looks up from the piano keys, floating in a sea of faces. Instantly you stand out to him. There's something chimerical in this moment, he thinks.

When he finishes up the set, quickly moving backstage to prepare for the next set, he makes a decision: he has to know more.

You get invited backstage after the concert, truly a dream. He sits on a plush light grey sofa, calmly smiling at you as he does to all his fans, but his golden eyes glitter and swirl with unreadable emotions. You've intrigued him.

Every moment that passes after this meeting seems to topple over like dominoes placed by a steady and swift hand. Invites to secret sessions turn into tickets offered over social media. Slowly, Sunday pulls you into his world, makes you his greatest muse. When the songs on his latest album are picked apart, atom by atom, the analysts surmise that there must be someone. And when Sunday responds to these allegations at a concert with a sly smile and a glint in his eyes, his fanbase erupts, demanding to know more.

But they will know nothing, Sunday thinks as he walks backstage, taking off his mic and his opulent outfit. He returns to his hotel room that evening to see you, safe and sound, your breathtaking eyes still painted in strange shades and hues from when he sung songs meant just for you.

He asks you if you would like to go to Penacony with him to watch him sing in the Charmony Festival, and you reply with bright eyes and a smile on your face.

One day very soon, Sunday will sing a song that will send the entire universe into an eternal dream. But in this moment, your beautiful, foolish mind completely ensnared by his siren-like voice, he feels like he is dreaming.

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining having a great track day with Ghost but getting so exhausted that the two of you fall asleep on the gym floor.

Like, you aced the hurdles and the dashes with no issue. The obstacle course wasn't even that with how you breezed through it. You had some issues with the rope climb, but Ghost had taught you the technique last session. And voila! You beat your last time and came out on top of the rookies once again.

Ghost was built for his brawn. While he also aced his turn, it was obvious he didn't have some of the dexterity you possessed and therefore had to put more energy into not knocking into things. He also came out on top of the rookies and over your time. You scoffed but offered him some water.

The summer was upon you, and with it, it's gentle heat that quickly turned to burning rage. You could feel a prickly tightness on the back of your shoulders and neck. Not sunburn quite yet, but probably close. The drier air wicked the moisture from your mouth as you panted.

"M' gonna head in." You huffed, gesturing to the gymnasium's open back door. "Do n' equipment check."

He nodded at you, the front of his mask rising and falling quickly. Something about seeing him pant in his mask tickled you. You headed towards the gym and the moment you stepped inside you couldn't help but sigh. The air conditioning was cool and refreshing. Instantly, you could feel the heat in your bones being drawn out towards your skin.

With a soft hum you began an equipment check. The longer you stood at the racks, check marking boxes and organizing the weights, you felt heavier and heavier. You checked the time, 12:45. No wonder you felt so drained.

It was the midday slump.

Well, as soon as you were done you could get a shower and probably get a nap before mess. The sound of the gym's back door closing made you jump. Oh no....

"Please tell me you didn't close that door." You whined at Ghost.

Just as you suspected, he still had his hand on the door handle. You facepalmed.

"Gaz has the keys. And he's not coming back till three."

"Wot 're you talkin' about?" Ghost huffed, trying the other set of gym doors. Just as you suspected, yeah, they were locked. He jiggled them firmly, eyes dark with annoyance.

"Thanks, Ghost. We're locked in here for awhile."

He went to try the locker room doors and those too were locked. You raised a brow at him but opted to sit against one of the bare walls. There was no point in getting upset.

Gaz would be back in a little while. Besides, the gym had the best air-conditioning out of all the buildings since it'd been first on the list for an upgrade last year. Even if you went back to your bunk, the the likelihood of getting a comfortable nap would be low.

You could hear Ghost messing with the door locks but you knew it was a lost cause. He didn't have the tools to open it, and if he brute forced it open Price would be on his ass for repairs. Just as you expected, it didn't take him long to give up.

"When's Gaz getting back?" He huffed, rolling up his longsleeve just enough to get a glance down at his sports watch.

"Three."

He set his watch's timer with a few beeps before crouching into a sitting position next to you. The next few minutes were spent in a cool silence. Occasionally the a/c units would hum to life, drone and puff cool air over your still hot body, and then click off.

"Didn't bring your phone?" He asked, voice more tired than usual.

"Nope. Left it in the locker room." You shrugged. "Didn't bring yours?"

"No." He muttered, glancing at the locker room with his eyes only.

More minutes ticked by. The cool linoleum leeched even more heat out of your skin. The overhead lights were motion activated, and so most of them had flicked off awhile ago. It was cool and dim and your body was tired from exertion.

You couldn't help but start nodding off.

"Falling asleep, Sergeant?" Ghost mused, looking down at you through the holes in his soft mask.

"Oh, don't act like you're not feeling it too." You huffed, curling up into your arms. "M' tired."

Ghost hummed. Whether in agreement, you couldn't tell. You didn't really care. How could you when sleep creeped in from the edge of your vision.

"Can I lean on you?"

"Wot?"

"Can I lean on you?" You asked him again. "I don't wanna lay on the floor but I wanna take a nap."

"Sure..."

You scooted closer to him and rested your head on the top of his arm. It was a bit uncomfortable with how firm it was at first but it was certainly softer than the floor. It didn't take long for you to feel your lids drooping again.

Right as you were pulled under, you felt Ghost shift. There was a warm presence against the crown of your head.

If you weren't half asleep you might've thought he'd kissed your forehead.

[angelshimaa]

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ;; 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 (pt. 2)

⤷ feat. midoriya & todoroki <3

✧ cw :: gn!reader, fluff, izuku calls you 'sweetheart' + 'angel', shoto calls you 'love'

✧ a/n :: I love these ones personally ^^ a quick feed bc i'm starting exams !

pt 1.

𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 watches you walk in holding a huge bouquet of flowers, your wide smile covered a little by them. you're struggling a little, but it only encourages a giggle to bubble out of you.

“and these?” izuku laughs, walking over to help you carry them.

as best as you can, you outstretch them to him. “for you, izu!” your laughter prompts his laughter— neither of you understand what's really so funny, but you simmer into the cheerful mood with him.

“you didn't have to, sweetheart,” he tries to get a hold of the bundle of stems, which only has some petals brushing up against his lower face and incites another round of light giggles. “i didn't know they made them this big!”

“as big as my love for you, izu,” you muse, watching the beauty in the colour his refreshed laughter brings to his freckled cheeks. “i won't lie, maybe even bigger—”

izuku twists the bouquet to the side enough to press a kiss to your face. “thank you angel. do we have a vase for these?”

you look at the huge bouquet, laughing once more. “...does anyone have a vase for these?”

“...we can go get one?”

deku smiles once more when he watches your eyes glimmer. “i'll grab the car keys.”

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 holds onto the beautiful flowers you bought, his fingers delicately wrapped around the stems as if he fully expects you to just take them back, tell him you were only joking. he hasn't gone out on many dates with you before, but he's pretty sure he’s the one meant to give you flowers.

“...for me?”

you giggle at your boyfriend. “yes, shoto, for you. do you like them?”

his pretty eyes glance down at the delicate petals and the complimentary colours bring a soft smile to his face— your thoughtfulness makes his heart so warm and he can't believe just how good you are to him.

shoto kisses your temple, his soft lips pressing against your skin. he's so close, and the faint smell of his cologne lingers on him— he's so attractive. “yes, my love. thank you.”

your smile sparkles, more vibrant than his flowers. “you’re welcome, baby— when should I get ready for dinner?”

shoto sets his flowers aside before looking you up and down slowly— only heaven knows why you're so pretty. “you could go like that and you'd still light up the room.”

you smile wider at him, draping your arms around his neck. infatuation sinks into you, sending you loopy as you share tender smiles. “flattery will get you everywhere, mr todoroki.”

his slender fingers hold onto your hips and he gives you a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips.

“i just need it to keep me with you.”

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

taglist (complete this form if you'd like to join !) :: @maeby-cursed @katsukismrs @himikoslove @pasteldaze @afairywithacrown @moonshuuls-archive @https-spacekay @k0z3me @frannky @sweeteaas @niktwazny303 @justbepeace @bookcluberror @ur-local-simp @awkwardaardvarkforever @dreamcastgirl99 @kinkykeira123 @kissagii @lotionlamp @onlybkgs @kirishima-eijirock .

[skzstoryvault]

Impromptu (Hyunjin, spicy)

Snippet I wrote on the fly

Hyunjin x f!reader

Warnings: smut, athletic sex, Hyunjin has a big dick but knows how to use it, dancer stamina, multiple orgasms

If this is not your thing, please scroll on.

If you're a minor, please scroll on, this is not for you yet.

Please be kind.

If you enjoy the read, please leave a comment or reblog with a few words of your own.

The song you're singing in the beginning is "Van Gogh" by Mette.

***

“... I could be Van Gogh, shorty you could be my muse!” You sang, remembering the tune Spotify played you this morning in the car on the way to work.

No one was in sight, the idols were all practising and the admin folks had a big assembly kind of meeting in the conference room upstairs. You were the only one on your floor and for a moment you allowed yourself to forget you were at work and dared to have a good time. 

“Having a good day, I hear.”

You could recognise that nasal voice anywhere, but you didn’t have to, because its owner, the beautiful Hwang Hyunjin, walks up to you from behind a wall separating two corridors.

“Is it against the rules? Is it even a breach if no one’s here to be bothered by my off key singing?”

“I didn’t think it was off key. I thought it was really cute. You suits always look so stern and distant. Must be all the numbers you deal with.” He offers. 

“Thank you. I didn’t mean to mock you guys and your talent… I just…”

“Hey you were feeling yourself, you’re allowed to have a good time, and not everything is about us.” Hyunjin says, watching you curiously. “Have you done something new to your hair?”

“Uh, yes, I was a brunette until last week. Bleached it all out to grow my natural hair out.”

“It’s striking. I like it.” He says, leaning close to you. Very close.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“Yes, you’re wearing a nice perfume. And I don’t usually like perfume.” 

“It’s not a perfume,” you say. “It’s my overnight deo.”

It’s a foreign notion to Koreans, since their sweat doesn’t stink so they don’t use deodorants. To prevent smelling like a dead horse under the scorching summer sun, you use an overnight deo which smells almost identical to the original smell of Nivea cream. Clean and comforting, but not harsh on the olfactory nerves. 

“Mmm, I love it. Do you have time to go for coffee with me?”

“Sure.”

“My treat. Americano ok?”

***

One thing led to another, but you don’t know exactly how. You just know you somehow made it back home and you’re in the shower, with Hyunjin, and you can still feel his plush, soft lips all over your body, although now they’re on your clit, sucking at it like there’s medals being given out.

You look down, and you nearly pass out. This is a god, and he’s currently on his knees on your shower floor, the water soaking him all over and of course making him at least 10% hotter than usual. He’s looking at you with hunger and adoration, and that’s the kind of look people reserve for their new spouses on their honeymoon, where fucking is the only thing on the agenda. 

His hands are spreading you so he can eat you better, suck on parts of you you normally don’t even know you have, let his tongue sneak and curl into folds and crevices no one ever sees, let alone touches.

You’re like an abandoned house whose owner died a while ago and he’s an heir rummaging around the place for hidden treasures the will might have overlooked. 

He dries you and himself, only enough to not leave puddles and ruin the sheets. 

You want to cry - the sharp, almost frightening pleasure he’s giving you highlights how neglected and starved for touch and attention you’ve been. But no tears come, drowned out by the waves and waves of pleasure making your abs twitch and contract sharply - right before he pulls a squirting orgasm out of you.

“I could do this all day,” he says, his face now dripping wet too and smiling. “I want more.” 

You also feel as though it would be a crime to turn him down. Suddenly grow a moral compass when faced with having him between your thighs. That’s the kind of thing you’d regret on your deathbed. 

Once in your bedroom, he smiles at the cat-print bedsheets.

“Cute. I hope you have spares.” Is his comment, and you feel your womb squeeze in arousal at the idea. Fuck.

You normally don’t do this, you know better than to fuck people from work, and you definitely feel bad at the idea of riding the dick carousel like some men so grossly put it. You’re worried that Hyunjin thinks of you as a whore now, but until half an hour ago you thought he was gay, so maybe your thoughts aren’t the most reliable source of reality. 

You are too ashamed to tell him you love it when he fucks you with just his fingers, but he can likely tell from how slippery you get. You also get surprised by your second orgasm, it’s so easy and so good, different in feeling than the first but still leaving you boneless and floating, while still somehow clinging to Hyunjin and begging him not to stop. 

He takes his time bringing you to a low simmer, the warmth from his kisses and touches seeping under your skin as he again takes his sweet time getting to know every corner of you. Normally, guys are in a hurry to put it in so they can start feeling good for the thirty seconds it takes them to nut.

Hyunjin is truly a god, or one of God’s favourite creations. Even sweating and panting above you, with his hair clinging to his face and neck, he looks straight out of Vogue. 

He kneels up and pulls you in his lap, watching closely as his cock spreads you open, biting his lips and throwing his head back when he feels wrapped in your snug heat. 

“F-fuck, this is that thing. Better than anything else.” He says, and you feel like the words aren’t meant for you. Still, you agree.

Hyunjin is hung and you thought you’d never care either way. But he knows what he’s working with and how to make it pleasurable without causing pain and discomfort first, and that’s sexier than any inch number.

It hits you that you let him hit without a condom, but your insurance does cover emergency contraception. You don’t even fuck enough to need a steady form of birth control, so you’re not as worried. Plus, you know he’s clean, you see all the idols’ personal data at work. 

He holds you through it and comes more like an afterthought, awed at how much he was able to get you off. 

Somehow, the position he has you in, in his lap so he can thrust up into you, with your legs and arms around him, is also helping him last for ages, until the point where he pulls out and turns you around. At first you think he’s just going to hit it from the back, but he pushes you flat on your belly, spreading your cheeks and pushing back in.

You hear him lick something and then you feel the slick pad of his thumb rub across your asshole, which wrings another release from you, making you writhe beneath him like a fish on dry land. He rolls off you to one side, pulling you with him without even pulling out, and lifts your upper leg so he can touch you more, his fingers stroking your clit while he’s still moving inside you.

It’s too much, too much sensation at once after so long going without - he makes you squirt again, and this time you burst into tears too. Your body tries to push his cock out but he keeps moving inside you, making you shake and sob through the almost unbearable pleasure. 

You’re convinced that when you wake, after he’s finally in the mood for some cuddles, you will find him gone, only to have a very awkward year of random bumping into each other at the JYPE offices. 

You still barely believe it. 

But Hyunjin stays. He stays the night, the week, the month, the year and then, finally, the day he stands before you with a ring in a fancy box. 

[plutoswritingplanet]

You Started It pt. 2(Buggy The Clown x F!Reader)

a/n: GMFU, that's all i have to say. this chapter was strongly inspired by the song Shikayat from the movie Gangubai Kathiawadi,

Warnings: General Asshole Behavior from The Man Of The Hour, Hostage Situation, Light Bondage (lmao), Some Good Old Smexual Tension.

Summary: The time for your great performance finally arrives, but the culmination will surprise both you and your captor.

Part 1.

You awake to the sound of music. Drums, trumpets and bells fill your ears, shaking you from some pleasant dream, where you could run free with your brother and his crew. Instead, your forehead aches from the way the bars of your prison dug into it, while you slept. Your legs are sore as well, dangling above the floor, wooden planks leaving marks on your thighs. Your joints crack, as you try to straighten yourself to the best of your capacity, an unpleasant shiver running up your back. Groggily, you wipe left-over tears from your eyes. The music wires itself into your brain, like a bug drilling inside your skull.

Then, someone yells. You know the voice all too well. The music stops immediately, and with a quickened pulse, you hear footsteps approaching the door to the backroom.

He waltzes in, a spring in his step betraying his barely contained excitement. It's been a week since your faithful conversation, and you haven't been moved from your spot above ground. Like a bird in a cage, he has kept you locked, visiting even more often than before. To feed you, give you some water, drink in the sight of you, pester you with questions you had no intention of answering. Truly, your purpose here must've shifted from solely being a Hostage, to providing Entertainment. Just like he's said when you first got here.

"Hostage!" he exclaims, as soon, as the door closes behind him.

"Captain" you answer, voice tired and still traced with the remnants of sleep. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He's not bothered by your sarcasm. You're not sure if he even registered it, with his giddy state.

"Today's your big day!" he jumps a few steps in your direction, wobbling on the balls of his feet,

At your confused, if slightly annoyed expression, he raises his hands, and that's when you notice the elephant in the room. A costume, folded neatly in his arms, one, you're without a doubt expected to wear. It's pink, baby pink and frilly to say the least. You can see an ungodly amount of ruffles, and sequins, and small golden bells. It makes your face involuntarily scrunch up. Never in a million years you'd be caught wearing such a pink thing of your own accord. But, as much as you hate the sight before you, the show must go on. You know it, and he most definitely knows so, too.

You flinch, when the Clown throws the costume to the side, lets it collide onto the table, bells ringing loudly. Then, he produces a key from the pocket of his trousers

"Be good, or else" he warns, and you nod, because what else can you do.

The soft click of the lock is like music to your ears, and as soon as the man opens the door, you nearly moan at the feeling of your legs finally being able to stretch. He watches from the side, as you unfurl yourself from the cage, limb by limb. Oh, the feeling of solid ground under your feet is almost too much

"I really cooped you up in there…" he muses to himself, and you contain the venomous look you were about to throw him.

Instead, you opt for stretching out your sore muscles, rising your hands as far above your head as you possibly can, and try to ignore the spark in his eyes, as he watches your shirt ride up your stomach, Finally, he clears his throat, crosses the room to the table and gathers the costume back in his arms

"Don't take long" he winks and points his chin towards the dressing room screen, tucked away against one of the walls.

Grabbing the amassing of fabric from his arms, and trying really hard not to touch him, you retreat to hide behind it. The screen is big enough to cover your body, but your head peeks above, and you shoot a cautious look towards the clown. To his credit, he hasn't moved any closer, rummaging through one of the chests at the end of the room. Your eyes catch a glimpse of something metallic and very sharp, disappearing into the inside pocket of his coat, and your heart jumps to your throat.

Your hands now shaking, you lay out the fabric, trying to get a good look at the costume, before you have to inevitably put it on your body. As you look at the full garb, it doesn't look as intimidating, as before. The ruffles, although pink and obnoxious, are flowing nicely with the entirety of the outfit. It is, however, much more revealing, than you've anticipated, and against your better judgement, you throw a single, judgy look towards the Clown, who immediately catches your eye at the other side of the screen

"Chop-chop, we haven't got all day" he smiles at you, full teeth on display.

Shaking your head, you begin to undress, movements slightly skittish, from the sudden anxiety running up your spine. The outfit slides against your body with ease, the fit being slightly too big on your figure. The expanse of your stomach lays bare, ruffles from the hem of the skimpy top tickling your ribs. Your legs are also, almost completely exposed, the lower half of the costume turning out to be a skirt with rather deep cutouts on the sides. It's a shame you don't have a mirror anywhere nearby, although perhaps it's for the best. You don't know if you could stomach to look at yourself in this ridiculous getup

"Ready, Hostage?" his voice startles you against your will, and after a couple of deep breaths, you step out from behind the screen.

His face remains blank, but his eyes feverishly run all across your body, taking in the image in utter silence. Again, anxiety rises in your gut, this time however, you begin to worry that somehow, this isn't enough. That this isn't the vision he has conjured up in his head, and anything deviating from his vision was sure to anger him beyond belief. You bite your lip in anticipation, as he slowly starts to walk towards you. Then, to your utter confusion, he kneels down just in front of you.

Silence envelops the two of you like a blanket made of tar. It pours into your lungs, making you unable to breathe. His hands are steady, as he reaches out and places them on one of your ankles. Your mismatched shoe slides off your foot under his gentle tug. Then, the other one. Your bare feet hit the floor and that's when you realize, you've begun to shiver

"The audience will love you" he breathes, voice quiet and reserved, almost unrecognizable from his regular, flashy persona.

Then, his hands retract to the inside of his coat. Your breath hitches, as he pulls out a golden cuff adorned with the same, small bells, which are currently attached to the rest of your outfit. Your brows furrow, and another, unexplainable feeling blossoms in your stomach, as you watch him lean down to clasp the cuff around your ankle, the second one following closely behind. His hands linger for a moment, and another surge of trembles runs through you. He's warm, and his fingers are calloused, but somehow, your skin doesn't seem to mind. If anything, you'd risk saying the way he softly slides his digits up your calf is enjoyable. Troubling and confusing, yes, but enjoyable nonetheless.

You sway in your place, as he rises from his knees

"Give me your hands, Hostage" since when has this nickname become so affectionate on his lips, you can't remember.

One part of your brain reasons, that it's a recent development, caused by the time you were forced to spend in his grasp. The other, more treacherous part supplies, that this strange intonation has been there from the very start. You were just too stubborn to notice it.

The tremors running through your hands, as you raise them to present to him, are honestly embarrassing. Your head hangs low, to shield your face from his gaze. It's no use, he can see right through you. The flush in your cheeks, your mouth falling slightly open, the shine in your eyes. He eats it up like a man starved. Reactions, that's what he's after, and with the way you've been acting, you've given him quite the show already.

It's quiet again, safe for the occasional jingle of the bells, as he gently locks two bracelets around your wrists, identical to the ones on your feet. His fingers toy with the golden clasp, brushing against your running pulse. Tension builds in your stomach, as his eyes finally look up to yours. You would've believed you were solitary in your confusing feelings, if his breath didn't come out in quick gasps through his painted lips. Lips, which in this quiet moment seem much too appetizing than they had any right to be.

"You look perfect" his breath brushes against your face, "There's just one little thing, that's missing, Hostage."

Your brows scrunch together, as you watch him reach into his pocket yet again. A beautiful silken scarf slides between his palms. It's pink as well, adorned with constellations stitched in with a shiny thread. Your confusion deepens, when he grabs your hand and turns your wrist up. Then, your heart drops.

Between the rows of small bells, you can see a golden loop attached to the cuff, identical looking back at you from your other wrist. You try to voice your protest, try to wring out your hand, but his grip on you tightens, and he tuts quietly under his breath.

"Can't have you flying away now, can I?" he weaves the scarf between the loops, and ties your hands together, leaving the fabric to drape in between

"How the hell do you expect me to perform with my hands tied?" your voice comes out much weaker than you've anticipated, betraying your growing fear.

To that, he looks up with a grin, yet his eyes remain cold, causing your whole body to shiver.

"You're a smart girl, you'll figure it out."

His finger detaches again, flying towards your nose and pushing it hard enough to make your entire face scrunch up. Then, he grabs a handful of the fabric, tugs on it to check the binds, and starts walking towards the door, not sparing you as much as a glance. And you follow, obediently, trying to make his head explode with your brain.

It's your fault, really, the feeling of disappointment and anger swirling around in your head. All this sudden quiet intimacy has clouded your judgement, and you've forgotten who you're truly dealing with. Oh, how you wish you could do anything to hurt him. How you wish, your brother would rescue you already, free you from this prison, not only physically, but mentally as well, so you won't have to think about this stupid, homicidal clown ever again.

If he senses you fuming behind him, he doesn't comment. And why would he? You're still following him, as he drags you through the stage, right to the middle of your future dance floor.

Your eyes dart around the place, trying to find anything, anyone, who could help you escape this predicament. To your surprise, and later, horror, the Circus is completely empty. Not a soul shares your fate. Not the public, not his Freaks, not even the Announcer. The silence makes goosebumps erupt all across your flesh, and words get stuck in your throat, as Buggy turns to face you with an unsettling grin plastered across his lips.

"I thought a private performance would be much more appropriate for you, my Hostage" his smile widens at your expression.

You want to scream at him, punch him in his stupid face, but all you can manage is glare daggers at his stupid face. Suddenly, the lights flicker on, startling you, as beams of light flow around you, only to fall right on the two of you. Buggy grabs your face, squishing your cheeks between his palms. His enthusiasm would be contagious, if you weren't scared shitless by this entire situation.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to a one-of-a-kind performance" he whispers inches from your face, "My dearest Hostage will dance for her life… and for your entertainment."

He lets go of you, forcefully showing you away, and you take a step back to stabilize yourself. The lights focus solely on you, and in the brightness surrounding you, you realize, you can't see anything besides the middle of the dance floor. Cackling like a madman, the Clown steps back, his hands clasped in front of his chest. You almost call out for him, as he slides into the shadows, but any sound dies on your tongue.

You're alone, again. Your breath quickens, as your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. This is not at all how you've envisioned this performance to go. Well, above all things, you didn't expect it would happen at all. Your brother should have freed you by now, and while you had your utmost faith in him, you couldn't shake the feeling of deeply seated worry. Which is why, you had to endure this torture. So you can see your brother again, when he finally comes for you. With a determined expression, you nod your head at the darkness and raise your hands, getting into, what you hope would look, like a dancing stance.

He holds you in anticipation for a moment longer, as any great showman should. And then, music floods the stadium. Bells and violins, distorted slightly by what you assume is an old gramophone. You recognize the song, thankfully, your face falling slightly, as you remember the meaning. A love song, of course, about hatred and affection. Bitter-sweet. Your limbs feel heavy and awkward, but you start to move nonetheless.

He wants a private show? You'll give him one, he won't forget.

The rhythm picks up and so do the movements of your hips. Bells jingle all around you, as you slide from one place to another, clouds of dust flying around your feet. The scarf turns out to be a major distraction, as you're unused to being bound. It takes you a while to get the hang of it, but once you do, you make the fabric dance with you, flowing around your body with satisfying grace. The song becomes even faster, and you twist and turn, ruffles jumping, as you run, accompanied by the bells. Your feet start to hurt from the roughness of the floor, but you ignore it completely.

The song drops before the second verse, and you follow the rhythm to the floor. Using all the acrobatics you've picked up through the years, you begin to writhe in the sand, adding a clap and a stomp, bells jingling to the music. That's when you finally see him, crouched down right in front you, watching your dance with a tilt to his head and something terrifying swirling behind his eyes. It makes you falter in your choreography, makes your guts twist with a feeling too close to arousal.

Then, a glint of something silver catches your eye. It swishes through the air, and plants itself right between your legs. A knife. Sharp and polished to perfection, it embeds itself into the wooden floor, splinters flying from the impact. The scream you let out would make a Banshee cringe, as you push yourself as far as you can from the weapon

"Now, now" Buggy calls out across from you, his silhouette barely visible in the darkness" The show must go on, Hostage."

He sounds terrifying, like some demon from your darkest dreams. But the music still plays, and you'll be damned, if this is what takes you down. So, you wipe your forehead with the silk scarf, contort your body and stand up, straight as a chord. Now, it's no longer a simple performance. Your blood boils inside you, fear giving space to anger and, strangely, some sort of misplaced ambition. You want to impress him, you want to make him frustrated, angry. Dust flows around you, as you resume your dance, movements much more confident, violent even.

He stalks you from the shadows, producing another knife from his pocket. It shines, when he lets it fly in your direction, but you don't even flinch, when it swishes right by your ear. Then another, grazes your torso, as you bend backwards. This one nicks you right below your ribs. You can feel blood running down the length of your stomach. No matter. Your eyes still follow him, and he steps closer to the light. Another knife, inches from your left foot. And closer he stalks. You can see the tips of his shoes enter the spotlight.

That's all it takes for you to make a decision. You won't play this torturous game any longer, and as the music nears its climax, you close the remaining distance between the two of you, hands flying to the collar of his shirt, fisting it tightly.

You're panting, so is he, as you stare at each other, all innocence gone from your respective expressions. Fury, oh, fury, you're not sure if you want to kill him, or kiss him, and as he produces one last knife from his pocket, the sentiment seems to be mutual

"You started it" a growl frees itself from the depths of your chest, and under your tight grip on his shirt, he shudders violently.

There's heat pooling into those blue eyes irises of his, enveloping you completely in the moment. But then, his eyes follow your scowl down to your lips, and you realize, you've never tasted face paint. What an interesting experience it would be.

This moment of tension is broken almost immediately, as clouds of smoke fill the tent, seemingly out of nowhere. Suddenly, something yanks you backwards by your arm, something puts a knife in your hand and something yells for you to run. So you do, you turn from the Clown, his figure drowned in smoke, and you run as fast as you can, without looking back. He screams some words you're too scared to decipher, his voice breaking. A disembodied hand flies in your direction, but you dodge it expertly. One more tug from the hand gripping your arm, and you fall through a thick curtain.

The sun outside the Circus tent blinds you, nearly making you lose your footing, but a pair of strong arms hold you in place, and a familiar head of ginger hair turns around to face you

"Come on, the ship is not far" Nami yells, and you can't contain the smile blossoming on your lips.

The Hostage, freed at last… Or so she hopes

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt1

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: I know I said that its a whole one shot only but I don't think that I can do it. I have to cut it because there is a lot of history. I hope you all enjoy.

About You Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Taglist: @spideybv28 @randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine

2005, Circuito de Jerez

The earliest memory that Y/N has of Sebastian Vettel was watching him test the Williams-BMW car.

It was her first time accompanying Mark and she was still grasping some of the key concepts of Formula 1 when Sebastian headed to the car. She watched how he drives and how the team were discussing about how he is a potential driver for the seasons to come.

"You know Seb is just a year older than you" Nico Rosberg, who has been keeping you company for the testing that afternoon, stated.

"Then that will make him the youngest driver if he enters Formula 1"Y/N mused.

Y/N didn't know but she was pretty excited to see him on track. She knew that this Sebastian will change a lot of things in F1 and will probably make history. At the same time, she can't help but be a bit worried since its a dangerous sports. One second you can be living the dream and then the next you find yourself recovering in a hospital room.

Sebastian Vettel gets out of the car and lifts his visor. There was a certain spark in his eyes that Y/N didn't miss out. Its the spark that showcase how much he loved to race.

Y/N didn't miss how her heart skipped a beat.

2006, Istanbul Park

The next time that Y/N sees Sebastian Vettel was during the free practice. He was a Friday driver for BMW-Sauber and he is as impressive as the day she first saw him in Spain.

"That kid just set out the fastest lap" her brother, Mark was shocked by the time set by Sebastian.

"That kid has a name" Y/N stated "and its Sebastian"

"Oh how come you are so informed about this missy?" he wondered

"He drove with you in testing season last year remember" Y/N replied.

The replay on the screen showcases the bold moves that were made by Sebastian. It was like he was driving like he is a man on a mission. If Y/N will bet, there is a lot of teams that will be shortlisting his name to their team.

"What do you think about him?"

"A little bit of reckless, I mean 6 seconds in your formula 1 career and you already have a penalty. There must be some kind of record for that" Mark was referring to the speeding penalty that Sebastian received as soon as he left the garage.

Y/N mumbles a small hmm as she continues to watch how Sebastian moves around the track. She was sure that sooner or later, she might see Sebastian more often.

2007, Albert Park

Fridays aren't too crowded as the Sunday races but still there was a bit of pressure in Sebastian Vettel's shoulder as he entered Albert Park.

He walked the paddocks and tried to visualize himself not just a Friday driver but an actual driver for the Sunday races. He pictures the screaming crowd chanting his name, the smell of burning rubber, radio messages from the team, and even being at the podium with the champagne.

In his daydreaming, he didn't realize that he bumped into someone. All he saw was that a girl was down on the ground with papers all over.

"I'm terribly sorry. I was not looking where I was going" he apologized.

"I'm equally at fault too"The woman assured "It was not wise to type and walk especially since this whole place is swarming with people"

Sebastian helped the girl compiling the papers and he noticed how the papers seem to be like contract for sponsorship. He looked at her and tried to identify which team did she belong to but her lack of team merchandise makes it difficult.

"You're new here?"he tries to decode.

"No, I'm not. I've been coming here since 5 years ago" there was an accent in her voice. Australian, if Sebastian was right.

"Huh, you must know your way around this whole place"

She takes a closer look at him, "You're that rookie Sebastian Vettel"

Now Sebastian doesn't have a huge following that he knows of and this is probably the first time that someone outside the family knew about him. Now, he felt even more curious about the girl.

"How did you know my name"

"Hard not to especially when you set a record to having the fastest penalty in their f1 career" she joked.

Normally Sebastian will be annoyed by the reminder of his mistake last year. He choose to forget that small mishap and avoid talking about it. But this time, he felt like the giggling is contagious that he can't help but smile when talking about his mistake.

"I assure you that I'm a much more better driver now" he states, holding up his hand as if saying that he swears he is a better a driver now.

"Hoping to see you deliver Vettel" she grins.

The girl started walking away from Sebastian when it occured to him that he didn't even know her name. He rushed to catch up with her.

"Wait, I didn't get your name"

She looked at him and there seems to be a slight hesitation

"If we meet again in a formula 1 race then I'll tell you my name" then the girl walked out of his sight.

2007, Indianopolis track.

It seems that luck has been on Y/N's side because she managed to avoid Sebastian during the past races. But it seems as if this luck is running out slowly since they are bound to meet up this weekend as Sebastian was bumped from reserve driver to formula 1 driver due to the injury that Kubica sustained in Canada.

She was hanging out at one of the coffee machines when she felt somebody tap her shoulder. She gave him a smile upon recognizing him.

"Sebastian Vettel, shouldn't you be preparing in your f1 car now?"

There was a loopy grin on his face, "Mystery woman, I was beginning to think if you are just a figment of my imagination.

Y/N pressed the hot cup to his hands, "I'm very much real and not just a figment of your mind"

"So will you tell me now your name?" Sebastian wondered. He has to admit that it has been bugging him for weeks on end about who this mystery woman is. He even went to ask around the paddock but his description was very vague and no one could help him.

"Its Y/N, nice to meet you" Purposely leaving out the last name.

In Y/N's mind it was just a safety pre-caution to leave out her last name. It was for her own good as well because people tend to act differently once they hear about your big brother or your connection to the sports. For once in her life, Y/N wants to be seen as just Y/N.

Maybe she just want to prolong this little charade for a little while longer.

"Y/N nice to finally meet you"

2007, Nürburgring

Maybe its the home turf advantage that boosted his confidence but Sebastian managed to ask Y/N if she would like a tour around the place. Thankfully, she agreed. Sebastian was already blabbering about the places that they have to get to and Y/N had to remind him that they're not staying for a vacation.

He will tell you that he is not freaking out but he prepared for the whole afternoon. He even asked his mother what outfit should he wear to make it seem like a casual hangout. In his defense, he never had a lot of friends growing up and he certainly didn't have beautiful australian girls around.

"You know you don't have to bring me flowers, were just touring around"

It was his idea to bring flowers because he often sees it in airports. When someone new is in town, they bring them flowers. He felt like the orange gerberas were a good pick as advised by the florist he knows.

"But the flowers made you smile" Sebastian grinned "I'm more than pleased to have a happy tourist to tour around"

Then two engaged in a conversation about their early life. Sebastian shared stories of the town he grew up in and his stories of motorsports.Y/N, on the other hand, listened and shared some bits of her life in Australia before she traveled around the world.

Eventually the duo ended up in an orange farm, where they picked out oranges and waited for the sunrise to set in the horizon. It was a core memory that they will share with one naother.

"We should do this again sometime"Y/N suggested

"Its a breather for you and I" Sebastian agreed "Away from all the lavishness of F1 and the pressure of the sports"

"Sounds like you wanted to run away with me"

"Who wouldn't want to run away with someone like you?"

2007, Fuji Speedway.

The past few weeks has been stressful for the Webber siblings. The articles published by some news sites seems to be getting on Mark's last nerve. Everyone seems to be taunting him about how he is over a hundred of race starts already but then he still haven't won anything. The pressure is high and Mark was determined to prove them wrong.

"Mark just don't do anything stupid okay?" Y/N begs.

She watches as Mark suit up for the next race. She was already used to her brother racing but she knew this race was a little different since her brother wanted to win.

"I'm not going to be stupid Y/N, I'll drive good today and I'll get that win that they want"Mark grumbled.

Y/N handed the helmet to her brother, "Just stay safe, I don't want to lose you"

"I'll come back safe"

The race went underway and as usual, Y/N watches it in the comforts of the driver's room. She did not want too many attention focused on her and she felt like her heart might actually come out of her rib cage if she watches it on the stands.

Japan's wet races gives Y/N a heavy feeling that something bad might happen. Her heart beats rapidly as she watches cars after cars spin out or crash. She prays that none of them was Mark. or Sebastian.

There was 20 laps to go when her ears started ringing that a Red Bull has been rear-ended by a Toro Rosso.

'Please don't let it be Mark and Seb. Please don't let it be Mark and Seb'

But the voices in the Red Bull pitlanes and the storming voices of Mark confirms her worst nightmare.

"That kid is so stupid, he shouldn't have been allowed to drive" Mark roared "I had that in the bag, I was going to win"

Y/N immediately hugged her brother, "Its alright, the win will be coming soon Mark. What matters is you are safe"

There were frustrated tears from Mark as he cried in the embrace of his sister. Privacy was given to the siblings as the race continues on. She was so focused on her brother that she didn't notice that there were several messages in her phone.

Seb: Where are you? Seb: I messed up my race and Webber. Seb: Call me when you get this. Please?

2007, Shanghai International Circuit

It felt like a heavy weight on Sebastian's shoulder after he messed up. He kept on blaming himself that he did not just mess up his own race but he also messed up Webber's race. It did not help that Y/N was not replying.

The media has also been eating him up with the way that Webber responded to him. He was called a kid that did not have enough experience. It stings a lot but now he has to put up a brave face and just race.

"SEB! SEB!"

Sebastian looked back and he saw Y/N. There was no hesitation in him but he immediately hugged her. It was the only time ever since Japan that people aren't mad at him or hounding him for questions. He felt at ease to be with Y/N.

"Where have you been, I have been messaging you over the weekend"

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Y/N says "And before I forget, I made you this as a token of my apology"

In her hand, she has a paper bag. Sebastian's curiosity is piqued upon looking at the contents inside the bag. There was a tupperware with food and a sticky note in a messy handwriting "for sebastian vettel, you can do it."

"You cook?"

"I don't but hey its the thought that counts. I figure that you might need-"

Y/N doesn't have to explain a lot because Sebastian already appreciated the gesture. He hugged her again and it seems like everything just got a little bit lighter for Sebastian that weekend.

It wasn't Sebastian's weekend at all but remembering the little note, that was tucked inside his helmet, he felt a lot better. He can bounce back next season.

2008,  Autodromo Nazionale di Monza

This was the internal dilemma of being Sebastian's friend and being Mark's sister. The two of them are in different side of the coins for this season. Two drivers shared the same family with Toro Rosso being the sister family of Red Bull but it seems like that's their only similarity.

Then there was the mixed emotion. Of course, Y/N was proud of Sebastian because he is slowly improving and shining with every grand prix. She was always elated when they see each other post-qualifying or post-race at the hotel rooftop (it has been their common knowledge that they will meet up there so that they can get fresh air together). On the other hand, Y/N knows about the pressure that it is being placed with her brother. Mark has been declining and losing hope for a maiden win. He has been in the sports for some time and he believes his time should have arrived by now but he lost opportunity after opportunity.

Y/N can't fault anyone for this one. Both of them just wanted to achieve their dreams. She wished everything does not have to escalate but here they are in the 2008 Monza Grand Prix.

Sebastian Vettel was starting on pole while Mark was starting third. Everyone is buzzing about the possibility that Toro Rosso might clinch a first win before Red Bull. It was something that Y/N knew bugged Mark's mind.

It didn't help that it was a rainy start and it sort of brought her back to Japan 2007. She was not an overly religious person but she prayed to any higher being to please don't let Mark and Sebastian crash with each other again.

The race went underway and the rain was not as heavy as Japan. Still there was some crashes and some spin. But Y/N felt the conflict of emotions start again upon seeing how Mark started to drop places while Sebastian pulled away from the rest.

Y/N went out of the driver room when it was nearing the end of the lap. She didn't know whether she should run and congratulate Sebastian or she should stay behind and comfort his brother.

Of course, blood is thicker than water.

Mark looks absolutely defeated as people started to ask him about how he is feeling when their sister group got its first win before them or how did he manage to mess up his 3rd position to eight.

"Just please give him some space, we will be answering the questions later" Y/N stepped up. Right now she was not Mark's sister but rather Mark's assistant.

Y/N helped Mark to go back to his driver's room so he can get a few minutes to himself before he gets questioned by the media again.

"It feels like shit. I feel like I can't do anything right" Mark threw his gloves across the room.

"It wasn't your time yet Mark" Y/N replied. Its like a broken record at this point which frustrates Mark.

"Then when will it be my time? Sebastian has been here for just a year or so and he already have a grand prix victory"

Y/N knew that this was the dam breaking. No words can comfort her brother right now so she just went to give him a hug. She could only wish in silence that Mark gets his win eventually.

On the other side of the paddock, there was cheering. Sebastian Vettel was in cloud 9 as he saw the Toro Rosso mechanics and engineers calls out his name. Everyone was in full party mode that they have even tossed Sebastian up in the air.

Everyone wanted to talk to him. They wanted to ask him about how he is feeling or how he created history today. He was the youngest driver to have a maiden win and the first one to bring victory to Toro Rosso.

But Sebastian eyes seem to search for someone in the crowd. He wouldn't voice it out but there was a certain woman he was hoping to see when he stepped into the podium. It had a slight twinge in his heart but the roaring crowd silenced that feeling.

'Maybe I'll see her later' Sebastian thought.

However, there was no Y/N in sight for the rest of the weekend.

2008, Marina Bay Street Circuit

Sebastian was still experiencing the highs of his Monza win and the Singapore GP has also been a good race for him. He might not have a podium finish but 5th was good enough. However if there was one thing that bothered Sebastian was the lack of Y/N sightings.

He tried messaging her after Monza but there was no reply. He thinks its probably weird that he didn't even get a congratulations because surely Y/N would know about it. There might be a couple of reasons why she didn't see it which is a) she was sick or b) she resigned.

Sebastian was gunning for the first choice because surely Y/N won't just resign without saying goodbye.

So imagine his surprise when he saw the woman that has been bugging his mind at the exit of the pitlane.

"You could have answered my texts you know" that was Sebastian's greeting to her

Y/N seems to be caught off-guard by Sebastian's presence. She was still in her work outfit Sebastian takes note as she was carrying a tote bag.

"I'm sorry. It just got a little busy for me"

Sebastian nods, he understands how having a job here is quite difficult. He could not fault her for that.

"Why not lets celebrate? I won in Monza and I finished fifth here"Sebastian offered "Consider it as your make up dinner for not congratulating me"

There was that hesitant smile gracing her face again and it reminded Sebastian of the first time she didn't tell her name. She seems extremely conflicted.

"Seb I would love to but I still have to do some work and-"

"Y/N, there you are"

Sebastian and Y/N whipped their head to the source of the voice. Mark Webber started walking towards them. It confused Sebastian as to why he knew Y/N but then he remembered that Mark was probably the one that Y/N has been working with.

"I told you to wait for me"Mark says as he picked up the bag of Y/N "I was just fixing some things with Christian"

"I can carry my stuffs myself Mark" Y/N replied

"But you have been walking in your heels the whole day, it's going to make you cranky sooner or later" Mark quipped back.

Now this confused Sebastian. It seems like their dynamics is not just work related but rather something personal. He also felt like he has missed a whole chapter and he feels very invisible at the moment.

"You two know each other?"Sebastian managed to ask.

There was a panic in Y/N eyes as if she wanted to explain but it was Mark that beat her to it.

"Of course, I know her" Mark admitted "Why wouldn't I know my sister?"

And it was that moment that Sebastian pieced out why she haven't been able to message him or why she was MIA as well in Japan. He felt stupid because he never inquired why she didn't give out her last name or why she was booked at the same hotel as the drivers.

Great just fucking great.

2008, Interlagos

It was eating her alive that Sebastian is not in speaking terms with her.

In hindsight, she understands that sooner or later, she has to tell him about who really is. She just didn't know that it will be as early and as unprepared as what happened in Singapore. She also got an earful from Mark who questioned how did she manage to meet Sebastian and why does it seem like the two are close with each other.

Honestly, she can't wait for the season to be over so that she can rest from all the drama but she knows that she has to make amends before winter break starts.

And so she slipped to the Toro Rosso garage, under the disguise that as Mark's assistant, she has to talk to Sebastian. So here she is in Sebastian's driver room, waiting for him to arrive.

"Can't I deal with this after-"Sebastian immediately stopped in his tracks upon seeing Y/N "Oh its you"

Silence enveloped the two of them. Y/N has a practiced script in her head but no words doesn't want to come out.

"I'm giving you five minutes or I'm kicking you out" Sebastian warned.

"I just came here to say that I am sorry. It wasn't really my intention to deceive you. I just wanted to be friends with you without my last name being too intimidating. I know that its terrible but I was going to tell you my name someday but Mark just got into the way and its all shit"

She was word-vomitting, she was sure of it. But hey its better than keeping everything as a burden on the shoulders.

"Say something please?" Y/N wondered with Sebastian's silence.

"You could have told me, don't you trust me?"

"I trust you Sebastian. Its just, its really complicated to be seen as Mark's sister or Mark's assistant. I just want to be just Y/N when I'm with you"Y/N sighs.

Y/N felt bummed as she thought she could fix this before winter break starts but she knows he might need some time.

"I know that its not easy to forgive me. Its selfish of me to do that so I won't force you to forgive me" she says "I'll give you some time to collect your thoughts"

Y/N reached out for the door when she felt a hand tugging her back. She saw Sebastian reaching out.

"Just give me some time"

"I will. Don't worry" she understands "I have to say I'm really proud of you this season. You did well Seb"

There was that silence when Sebastian held her. She knows things are far from okay and there is the upcoming season that has the possibility of Sebastian being upgraded to Red Bull but in this moment, none of that matters. Its just them. Just Y/N and Seb.

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[romanoffsdarling]

Summertime Sadness

Pairing: Dom!Wanda Maximoff x MILF!Reader

Summary: You hadn’t expected the summer after your divorce to be anything more than you simply getting used to being alone and drowning your sorrows in glasses of wine. The sudden homecoming of your daughter brings those plans to a screeching halt, but nothing could have prepared you for the woman that she brought along. Her best friend, the woman you’ve been hearing about in all of her phone calls home, offering you a glimpse into parts of yourself you never even knew were there. 

Word Count: 4,891

Warnings: Legal age gap, oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), and hints of possessiveness. 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: I’ve seen a lot of stories with Wanda being the MILF, rightfully so, but I wanted to spin it a bit and make the Reader the MILF in this instance. Hope you all enjoy! (Also, I’m so sorry for disappearing for so long, college has been absolute hell.)

You never truly comprehend how much time you waste, how much had truly slipped through your fingers, until it’s already too late to do anything about it. Until you look into the mirror and see the once youthful face marred by faint wrinkles, a sign of wisdom your best friend would tease, and hair speckled with the vaguest hint of grey. 

Twenty-five years... You had been married to your husband for twenty-five years; giving him your youth, giving him your heart and soul, and you never once imagined that he would have tossed all of that away for some floozy at his law firm. Never thought that you’d look down at your left hand and not see the delicate gold band situated on your ring finger. Of course, even now, you didn’t regret marrying him-- for it had given you the house you lived in now, the friends that had flocked to your side when the news of his infidelity spread through the neighborhood, and it gave you your darling daughter. Even if she was not yours by blood, you couldn’t imagine anyone housing the same space in your heart like your beautiful Natasha did. 

All you did regret was being stupid enough to trust him so much. For putting your faith, and your dreams, in his clearly incapable hands. It had hurt, and still does hurt, but it wasn’t because you had lost him-- your marriage, in truth, had been dead for years-- but for all the time you had lost in chasing smoke and mirrors; in staying for something that should have been let go of long ago. You hated him for what he did, for getting caught with his pants down in between his secretary’s thighs, but you hated him even more for not being man enough to simply let you go, to give up the fight when it had already been lost after his first thirty seconds with his new whore, and it’s for that reason that you were currently scrubbing every inch of his old office clean. 

You wanted to get rid of any reminder of him-- both in your home and in your mind. 

The smell of bleach and lemon disinfectant surrounds you, but you had long grown used to the cloying scent. Dark oak floors, and the matching desk, gleamed underneath the antique lighting of the room; it had been a long time since they had been given the proper care they needed. It seems that I have more in common with inanimate objects that I thought, you muse, a sense of bittersweet irony strewn within the thought. 

Settling back on your haunches, a sigh escapes your lips, and you roll your shoulders, wanting to relieve the tension that had been slowly building up for the past couple of hours. “I’m not getting any younger,” you mutter, tossing the damp rag to the side. “I just hope everything will get a bit easier.” 

Even to yourself you knew that was asking for a miracle. 

Before you could delve down into that specific line of thought, you faintly hear the sound of the front door being opened and the familiar sound of jangling keys with the slightly deadpan calling of ‘mom’ permeates the usual silence. The sound, although not unwelcome in the slightest, causes a small frown to furrow your brow all the same. 

“Natasha?” You call back, already making your way towards the living room, sure that your confusion rung clearly within your tone. An expression that only grows that much more pronounced when you’re met with the shimmering gaze of your daughter; tousled red hair cut short, falling to just above her shoulders, and her usual penchant of wearing darker colors being tantamount. “What are you doing home, sweetheart? I wasn’t expecting you for another month.” 

Her lips twist in a wry smile. “Are you not happy to see me, mother?” She tilts her head, faux hurt making an appearance. “I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

You gently swat her arm, before pulling her into a tight hug. “Of course, I’m happy to see you, Natasha,” you murmur, your lips briefly brush across her cheek before you disentangle from her completely. “I just know how you value your independence too.”

“I knew that you were alone in the house, mom,” she replies, a shrug calmly following her words. “I didn’t want you to wallow in self-pity while that fucker I call a father gets his rocks off with someone half his age across town.” 

“Language, Natasha,” you gently chide, well aware your daughter was in her early twenties now and didn’t need to be reprimanded for it. “You know that your father still loves you dearly, and I believe he’s excited to see you whenever you get around to going to his new house.” 

Jade eyes roll so hard you’re almost concerned about them getting stuck. “He should have thought about that before he stuck his tongue down someone else’s throat.” Natasha’s lips press into a line, clearly agitated, but she takes a deep breath through her nose and forcibly calms herself down. “But I’m not here to talk about him. I’m here to spend time with you.” 

Sudden movement from behind Natasha causes your reply to catch in your throat when you finally focus on the woman standing behind your daughter. Whose presence you were completely astonished you hadn’t noticed before, especially given how electrifying it felt to have her emerald eyes honed directly on you, but your gentle smile doesn’t fall away; even if you do feel it twitch slightly due to your surprise. Your hand, that was near enough to your daughter’s forearm, clenches around it in a silent reprimand, but you try your best to keep the pleasant tone to your voice. 

“I see that my daughter didn’t think it best to introduce her guest first.” You gently pinch Natasha once before stepping closer to the unknown woman in your home. “I apologize for not noticing you sooner.” 

The woman smirks, the light emerald of her eyes shifting to tantalizing jade as she observes you. “It’s quite alright,” she replies, her voice a husky whisper that’s enveloped in an accent you couldn’t pinpoint the origin of. “I’m not surprised that Nat was too focused on her mother to remember me.” 

Subtext is etched into every inch of that statement, but you didn’t have time to even try to sift through it before your daughter’s teasing voice cuts through. 

“It’s not my fault my mother is more interesting than you, Wanda.” She slides past you to stand beside the now smiling woman. “You just need to learn to get on her level.”

Wanda’s gaze shifts from your daughter to you once more-- the barest hint of her earlier smirk returning. “I don’t know, Nat,” she teases, amusement, mixed with something else you couldn’t put a name to, laced within her words. “I think I quite like my view from where I’m at.”

Your daughter, once again, rolls her eyes skyward but her easygoing smile doesn’t leave her lips. “Mom.” She turns back to you and gestures towards Wanda. “This is Wanda Maximoff, I’ve talked about her a bit when I’ve called home.” 

The name finally clicks into place within your head. Memories of your daughter’s exasperated voice, filled with hints of fondness, come forth from the recesses of your mind. All of the stories, all of the thinly veiled jokes, that your daughter had shared with you, and the clear warmth that she felt for the other woman, brings a fond smile to your lips. An expression that causes various emotions to flicker across Wanda’s face for the briefest of moments before it smooths over. 

“So, you’re the one my daughter kept talking about?” You couldn’t keep the genuine amusement out of your tone if you tried. “Her best friend?”

Wanda arches a brow. “I’m your best friend, Nat?” She playfully places her hands to her heart. “I’m honored that you think so highly of me.” 

You can tell your daughter just barely refrains from rolling her eyes. Not even bothering to deign Wanda’s teasing words with a response, Natasha turns back to you. “Can we go put our things away, mom?” She rolls her shoulders, and, for the first time, you notice how tired she looked. Of course, it was over a four-hour drive from your house in Westview to her college in Ithaca. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” you soothed. “I’m just going to finish up some work down here and then I’ll get started on dinner, okay?”

Natasha smiles. “You’re the best, mom.” 

Your heart flutters at her words, a simple compliment to most, but one that you’ve desperately needed in the last few months. Knowing that you may start crying at any moment if you tried to speak, you wave your daughter towards the stairs and step back towards the hallway to continue your work in the office. But, before you could a throat clearing behind you causes you to turn back around-- only to be met by beautiful emerald eyes that seemed to encompass you in a bubble you didn’t know if you wanted to escape from. 

“Is everything alright, Wanda?” Your gaze quickly flicks over her body: from the black skinny jeans with holes, to the simple red leather jacket, and the casually tousled way her dark auburn hair fell over her shoulders. “Did you need something?” 

Pale pink lips quirk for a moment, before a genuine look of something passes over Wanda’s face once more. “I don’t need anything.” She shakes her head, a low chuckle escapes her, but you weren’t quite sure what was so funny. “I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here with Natasha. Especially since it was clear you didn’t know I was coming in the first place.” 

“It’s not a problem, Wanda,” you reply, a smile of your own playing across your lips. “I’m glad that I won’t be alone in this house for however long you both decide to stay. It definitely beats what I was going to do.”

“What were you going to do?” 

You shrug. “Just wallow around and get drunk off of some wine.”

Wanda considers you for a moment, emerald eyes cast in shadow. “I’m not so sure about the wallowing, but I’d love to have a glass of wine with you sometime.” 

“Oh.” You’re surprised by the simplicity in which Wanda makes the offer. None of Natasha’s previous friends, or best friends, had ever bothered, or seemed that keen, to spend time with you. Not that you’d ever fault them for doing so. Who would want to spend time with the parents of their best friend? “I’m sure you’ll have much more interesting things to do, Wanda.” 

A smile, much softer than the one’s she had shown you before, plays at the corners of her lips. “I’m not so sure about that, but the offer still stands regardless.” She looks over her shoulder when the call of her name from Natasha’s room spears through the house, an almost disgruntled look etching itself across her face because of it. “I think it’ll be fun to get to know the woman that raised Nat. Her stories of you haven’t done you justice in the slightest.” 

You’re not able to reply before Natasha’s annoyed voice from the upper-level calls Wanda towards the stairs, clearly impatient with how long her friend was taking. Conversation over then, you think, taking a small step back, towards the direction of the kitchen. The action elicits the smallest of frowns from Wanda, an expression that is there and gone before you could even blink, and you offer her one last wave before heading further into your house, vaguely aware that you didn’t hear the telltale signs of footsteps on your stairs until you rounded the corner. 

The following week passes quickly, and you easily grow used to having Natasha back home-- Wanda slipping in seamlessly throughout it all. It was nice to have some company in the large house, even if Natasha did tend to disappear to reconnect with friends she had left behind once she went off to New York and left Westview behind, but knowing that your daughter was there, and would continue to be, if you needed her soothed you in a way that you hadn’t even known you needed. 

Wanda, despite Natasha’s persistent pestering, seemed to enjoy spending her time lounging around the house, citing that she didn’t know anyone in Westview and didn’t plan on getting chummy with the locals, offering her help whenever she saw you doing something, with an ever present look in her eyes that you still couldn’t place. Although you didn’t exactly mind spending time with the younger woman, her perception of the world was enlightening, along with your shared interests in various topics that had never seem to intrigue anyone else except you-- until now, of course. 

You could feel yourself getting close to her, closer than you’ve allowed yourself to be in a long time. Not since college, you muse, taking a small sip of the chilled wine that Wanda had just brought you. Finally deciding, with Natasha going out for friend’s birthday party, that it’d the perfect time to finally share that glass of wine. You didn’t bother trying to argue with her, not when she looked so earnest in her request. 

Wanda settles next to you, causing you to shift your position, pressing your back into the arm rest, in order to be able to look at her. Emerald eyes were glued onto you, a smile playing on the edges of her lips, before she shifts into a comfortable position of her own. 

“So,” you begin, setting down your wine on the coffee table. “What are you planning on doing once you graduate college? Any idea on where you’d like to end up?” 

“I’ve always loved the idea of being a Producer, being the magic behind the scenes if you will,” Wanda replies, a charming grin catching her lips. “And, yes, I do believe there’s a place that’s caught my eye on where I’d like to end up.” 

You arch a brow. “Really?” 

Wanda simply hums in response, a spark of mischief dancing within her gaze-- a look that you had long since grown used to. It’s clear that she wasn’t going to answer you, not that you truly expected her to, after all what college kid has plans on where they’d like to end up? Ideas, perhaps, but nothing concrete as most go where the wind takes them. 

“Well,” you continue, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I’m glad that you have everything figured out. I definitely envy you for that?” 

The younger woman’s brow furrows at that, bottom lip disappearing behind pearly white teeth. “Why do you say that?” Emerald eyes flit over the immaculate expanse of your house, one that you had strived hard to maintain through the years. “I think you’re definitely a few steps ahead of me in that department.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” You wave the pseudo-compliment away. “All of what I have isn’t what I originally dreamed of, or wished for, myself, but when certain cards are laid out in front of you.” Trailing off, you run a singular look over the now empty expanse of your ring finger. “You either fold or raise, I wasn’t willing to do the latter. Not when it had so many other consequences attached to it.” 

“What would you wish for then?” 

You shift your focus back to Wanda, confusion etched across your face. “What?” 

She waves a hand. “You said that all of this isn’t what you originally wished for yourself.” Wanda shrugs. “What is then? What would you wish for?” 

“I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through,” you sigh, taking another sip of your wine. “Of course, with my age, I don’t think that’s really in the cards for me anymore.” 

Wanda scoffs. “I don’t think that’s true. I think there are quite a few people that’d love to be with you.”

Something tells you, maybe some deeper part, a more sensible part, of your brain, that you shouldn’t continue forward with this conversation, that you should take her words as the compliment they are, but another, more needy part of your brain, one that desperately needs to feel some form of validation after so long, doesn’t want to in the slightest. 

Rolling your shoulders, you level Wanda with a look. “Really?” She hums in confirmation. “And who might those people be?”

“Me.” 

If it wasn’t for your back being wedged against the armrest of your catch, you’re fairly certain you would have reared back completely at the calm nonchalance in which she gave you the answer. “Y-You can’t be serious Wanda.” You shake your head, not believing at all what you were hearing. “I’m over a decade older than you.” 

She tilts her head. “So?” A salacious smirk tugs her lips upward. “I think that makes you even hotter.”

“You--” You huff out a breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Wanda. I think I’m going to get you some water because you’ve obviously had quite a bit to drink already.” 

But, before you’re able to even push up from the couch, Wanda’s hand grabs your wrist and tugs you closer. Noses almost smashing together, you’re only able to keep yourself steady by grabbing ahold of Wanda’s shoulder with your free hand. “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” she hisses, warm breath ghosting across your face. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you on Nat’s phone and it only grew the moment I saw you in person.” Her hand lightly traces down your face, almost reverently. “You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen. No one could ever compare to you in my eyes.”

The sweets words, coupled by the earnest expression etched across her youthful face, causes your willpower to begin to falter. How long has it been since someone looked at you like that? Spoke to you in such a manner? Have you ever had that? The thought makes something twist within your gut. 

“You’re my daughter’s best friend,” you begin, trying to force some semblance of reality into this situation. Trying to make yourself see reason before you did what this was no doubt leading to. “We can’t do this, Wanda.” 

“We can do whatever the hell we want. We’re both adults, I’m not some child.” She tugs you closer, nuzzling her nose against yours. “And what I want to do is kiss you the way you’re supposed to be kissed.” 

A hitch in your breathing gives Wanda all the information she needs, and seals your fate completely, but, even with that go ahead, at the clear sign that you wanted her as much as she clearly wanted you, her lips still descended onto yours at a snail’s pace, giving you the opportunity to pull away. 

You didn’t want to. 

Didn’t want to have this moment be ruined by what could potentially come after. For the first time, in what felt like forever, you were going to put what you desired, what you wanted, before everything else. So, when Wanda’s lips finally did meet your own, and you’re able to faintly taste the cherry chap-stick she seemed so fond of, you give your all to the embrace. Mouth easily opening to her questing tongue, a small moan escaping from deep within your chest at the feel of it entangling with your own, and Wanda seems to press even closer. 

At this point you’re not even sure where you begin and Wanda ends, being pressed so closely together as you are. All you do know is that you never want this to end, never want to go a moment without Wanda’s warm hands trailing down your body, slender fingers digging slightly into your sides to pull you tightly against her, never want to be without the feelings she invokes within your chest-- the butterflies she causes within your stomach. 

With a small snarl, Wanda rips her mouth from yours, making you just barely stifle the noise of disappointment the action causes within you, but the darkened emerald eyes leveled with your own renders you temporarily mute. Wanda’s chest heaving in her effort to get enough air, but she doesn’t once stop running her hands down your body-- seemingly not being able to get enough of touching you. 

“I want to see you,” Wanda growls, hands gripping the material of your flimsy shirt and quickly pulling it over your head. Darkened green eyes taking in each inch of flesh that’s been revealed to her-- on any other circumstance you’d be mortified by the fervor in which she was looking at you, but underneath all that hunger, you could see a sense of awe, a spark of reverence, as if you had just made a wish of hers come true. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” Her head dips, pressing a hot kiss against your neck, tongue soothing the place her teeth had dug in. “I’m going to worship you, baby, I’m going to make everyone else before me feel obsolete.”

Your back arches on its own volition, pressing yourself further into the heated touch of the hand trailing down your abdomen. Burning kisses, that feel like they’d send the raging inferno coursing through your veins absolutely haywire, following the path her fingers had just traced-- sharp canines delicately nipping the flesh of your navel before her tongue sweeps over the flesh to soothe the mark that she had undoubtedly left behind. You’re barely aware of when Wanda had been capable of tugging your sweatpants down your leg, along with your panties, before tossing them in a random direction behind her, but you’re definitely honed in on the moment her tongue, that had just done such sinful things to your chest and stomach, made contact with the apex of your thighs. 

A breathy whine escapes you then, the feeling of Wanda’s tongue lapping at the wetness beginning to escape you, little hungry mewls escaping her throat, as if you were the most appetizing thing she had ever tasted, brings a whole new high to your pleasure-- something you had never felt before. Digging your fingers through her hair, tugging at the long strands to pull her impossibly closer, you’re rewarded by a breathy snarl, Wanda’s lips latching onto your clit and sucking it into her warm mouth-- slender fingers taking up residence where her tongue had just been, entering you hard and fast. Not giving you even a moment to get used to the new feelings before she’s pounding into you, the slender digits curling up just right to brush the spot within you. 

The sounds of your wetness, of the sloshing noises that Wanda’s fingers made every time she pulled out, would have normally made you embarrassed, and it probably would have, if Wanda hadn’t made sure to maintain eye contact with you throughout it all. Emerald eyes, blown almost black with lust, keenly observing every minute expression that flits across your face, tongue lashing across your clit in the precise moment that you needed her to, fingers scissoring inside of you the moment you felt your high coming that much closer. The simple fact that she already seemed to know your body so well, that she could already read your face, in a way that your ex-husband never could, makes the need to have her closer almost like a drug coursing through your veins. 

With the fingers still tangled in her hair, you tug her upwards. Seeming almost hesitant to leave, Wanda follows your wordless command after another thorough swipe of her tongue, her mouth latching onto your own the moment she’s within reach. And, the heady mix of yourself and something that’s inherently Wanda, fogs your brain, but you still have half the mind to wrap your arms around her back, arching more fully into her body-- needing to feel connected to her in some way. Moreso than you already were. 

Ripping her mouth away from your own, when air becomes a necessity, Wanda groans. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Nimble fingers are quickly accompanied by a third. “Taking my fingers so well. Fuck you’re so tight for me, aren’t you?” 

You nod, a soundless scream escaping. The stretch, the feeling of being so full, and the warmth of Wanda’s breath across your ear, a combination you never knew you needed until now. The cliff, that you hadn’t been able to achieve by yourself, and rarely ever with your ex-husband, seems to be getting closer and closer; you were more than excited to finally take the plunge. 

“That’s right, baby,” Wanda coos, thrusting harder into you. “Just feel my fingers in your perfect cunt. He never fucked you like this, huh? Never treated with the roughness you’ve obviously wanted?”

Something in her voice, in the darkened tone, tells you that this line of questioning wouldn’t be as rhetorical as the first. “N-No--” A sharp whine is pulled from your lips. “Only you. Only you’ve fucked me the way I’ve wanted.”

A sharp grin pulls at Wanda’s lips, her free hand gripping your hip in a possessive hold. “And I’m only ever going to be the one to do it from this point forward.” Her head dips, teeth digging into the sensitive flesh right beneath your pulse point. “Isn’t that right, baby?” 

“Yes!” Your back arches, your incoming orgasm nearly blinding you. “I-I’m so close. I-I can’t--” 

Wanda rolls her hips, shushing you gently. “It’s alright, baby. You’ve done so good for me. Be my good girl and cum for me.”

At her command your body finally releases the final coil that had been prepared to spring forward, as if it had been waiting for her words all along, and a keening cry passes your lips-- Wanda-- as your world is whitened by your pleasure. Only vaguely aware of Wanda’s lips pressing repeatedly against your cheek, her fingers gently guiding you through. 

When you come down from your high, from the toe-curling pleasure that she had given you, and your vision clears enough for you to see Wanda, still hovering over you, with that same look of reverence on her face from before, you couldn’t help the almost shy smile that appears. Something that causes Wanda to dip forward to place a chaste kiss against the smile, so tender from the hungry ones that she had bestowed on you only a moment before. 

“How the fuck could he ever leave someone like you?” It’s said in a low voice, one that you don’t think you were supposed to her, but her clear confusion fills you with warmth, nonetheless. Emerald eyes raise to meet your own gaze, softness suffused within it. “Will you give me that honor, baby? The honor of making you forget.” 

Your earlier words, said in a mournful whisper, come back to you instantly: I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through. 

“I’m over a decade older than you, Wanda,” you rebuke. “Why the hell would you want to be with someone like me?” 

Her brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I?” She lowers herself, finally pressing her body against yours, allowing you to feel the warmth of her skin, she places another gentle kiss to your lips. “You’re the only woman that’s ever made me feel like this. I don’t give a damn how old you are, I don’t give a damn if Natasha has an issue with it, I’ll talk to her, all I care about is that I get to have you like this again. That I get to love you in the way that you deserve to be.” Emerald eyes sharpen, her grip on your body tightening. “In a way that only I could ever give you.” 

Your eyes flutter shut at her words, something you’ve been wanting to hear for so long. Could you actually take this plunge? Allow yourself to take such a huge risk? Potentially cause a crisis with your daughter and Westview at large? What if it didn’t work out? 

What if it did? The gentle voice of your conscience counters. What if this is your chance at finally being happy? At finally finding the one person you’ve been searching for? Are you really going to let that pass you by? 

You didn’t know how this was going to turn out, how any of this would end up snowballing into years down the line, but as your eyes open and you peer into emerald green, a color that had enchanted you since you first looked upon it, you know your answer instantly-- have known it for longer than the question even being posed. 

“Yes.” 

Wanda’s answering smile, bright with her happiness, is all you see before she descends onto your mouth again, clearly wanting to show you everything that you’d now be experiencing from this point on. 

[hyunsvngs]

hyunsvngbinimas!

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

warnings: chastity belt, dom!jeongin, innie is mean, degradation, oral (m rec), like one face slap, spit, maybe edging?, one use of ‘sir’, praise, squirting, unprotected sex

“Too tight, or is it okay?” Jeongin muses, ever the careful boyfriend. You shift from foot to foot in front of the mirror, rubbing your thighs together as much as you can despite your newly locked restraint. His fingers dip into the belt around your hips, pleasantly surprised to see that he can fit two fingers past the band. “Mm, it feels okay.”

“It’s- it’s fine, Jeongin,” You huff, a flush spreading from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears. Can’t he just try and push his fingers a little lower? He pulls your dress down then, rubbing a hand over where the red material of your Mrs. Claus themed dress stretches across your ass. The chastity belt is hidden underneath, the key sitting pretty on a chain around Jeongin’s neck.

It’s inconspicuous - it’s like you could pretend it’s not even there, if not for the dildo attached to the damn thing. Jeongin had spent days - no, weeks, picking out the perfect chastity belt for you. Tight enough that you couldn’t forget it was there, but loose enough for comfort, and with a ribbed dildo attached to rest inside of you and plug your pussy up all day. You were able to pee with it on, but not quite rub your clit on anything and reach orgasm - and Jeongin knew you couldn’t cum without that.

He comes up behind you as you fiddle with your hair in the mirror. All you see is a mop of unruly blonde and brown hair, and then you feel the press of lips at your neck. It would be reassuring if not for your current situation. “Twelve hours, jagi. You’ve got this.”

Right. Twelve hours. You had to wear this and feel the incessant pressing of the dildo inside you for twelve hours, and then he’ll let you cum when the clock strikes midnight and it’s officially Christmas Day.

You’re not sure you’re surviving it, in all honesty.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You managed to make it two hours before saying anything, which felt like an achievement. You and Jeongin went to a Christmas dinner with the boys, and it’s in the car that you feel your resolve withering. The dildo sits inside of you, wet and promising against your walls, but everytime you try to grind down on the sensation you’re met with metal preventing you from moving anywhere. You whine, knuckles going white where you’re gripping onto the passenger seat on your way home, and Jeongin only raises an eyebrow.

“It’s been two hours,” He hums, side eyeing your panting, heaving figure. Your cheeks are burning crimson, a bead of sweat pearling on your hairline. You wish he’d lick it off. “You have to keep it together. You still have ten hours to go.”

“Don’t remind me!” You wail, head lolling back against the headrest. The car ride is bumpy, and all you can imagine is Jeongin pulling over and taking you into the backseat, unlocking the stupid fucking belt and finally, finally pushing his cock into your slick hole. The thought has you whimpering, feet thrashing against the floor of the car in your tantrum. Jeongin huffs out a laugh.

“Be good,” He warns, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. You let yourself look at him, only a brief, fleeting glance, but it has your clit throbbing painfully. His Christmas jumper makes him look domestic, festive and sweet, and his jeans are tight on his long legs and thighs. You feel like you’re going to cry. You need him so bad. At a red light, he turns to you, tone soft, eyes anything but. “Jagiya. Be good, I believe in you.”

You blink back tears, shifting a little in your seat as if it’s going to provide you any form of relief. Jeongin swipes a thumb over your cheekbone with a soft grin, eyes forming crescent moons. It’s comforting. You nod hesitantly. “I can be good.”

“You can, and you will.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Six hours. Six hours and you’re sitting on the living room floor, now in your joggers and loose t-shirt wrapping some last minute presents. Jeongin’s mother’s gift from you both had only arrived today, so you sit fiddling with the wrapping paper and expensive perfume box, trying desperately not to think about how unbearably full you are. It’s not enough. It could never be enough. Your boyfriend’s so damn sadistic, so dirty, but you’re even worse for enjoying it so much.

You hear the sound of socked feet padding into the living room, and then a huff as Jeongin drops to the floor. He scoots forward, arms wrapped around your middle and head in the nape of your neck.

“Thanks for wrapping them,” He murmurs, fingernails dragging over your exposed arms. It makes you shiver, not going unnoticed by him. “I’m useless with wrapping gifts, jagi, you’re much better than me.”

“Yeah,” You muse, sticking another strip of tape over the golden paper. “You are useless with wrapping gifts. Remember our first year we were together, you wrapped my gift and forgot tape, and-”

“Shut up,” He whines, hiding his blushing face in your neck. It makes you giggle, and it’s so easy to be domestic and comfortable like this with your boyfriend, so easy to forget the fact that your pussy is still plugged up. A beat passes, and Jeongin inches forward, large hands moving up to underneath your breasts. Oh, no.

“Jeongin,” You warn, shifting on the floor. It doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t help.

“Ssh,” Jeongin mutters, and then his hands encompass your breasts. He grips so tightly that the flesh spills out between his fingers, pebbled nipples rubbing against the fabric of your shirt. You’re too sensitive. “You’re not even wearing a bra. You make it so easy for me. So willing for me to touch you even though you know you can’t cum.”

“Please-”

“Carry on wrapping, you’ve got more to do,” He cuts you off. You sigh, fiddling with the present to make it look like you’re actually doing something. His hands move to massage your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “I bet you’re feeling extra slutty for me right now. I bet that dildo is filling you up, but it’s not enough, is it? It’s not as big as me.”

Oh, fuck. Did he have to remind you? No, it’s not as big as him, it’s not as thick as him and it sure as hell can’t make you cum like he does, not when it’s just resting there.

“You’re doing so well,” He kisses your neck, flicks his tongue over your earlobe. You let yourself whine, head lolling back on his shoulder. “My pretty little slut. I can’t wait to have you squirting on my cock later, making a mess all over me.”

“Jeongin, please, I can’t-”

“Six hours, jagi. You’re halfway there,” Jeongin pecks the nape of your neck, and then he hops up, padding out of the room. You’re left with a heaving chest and extremely hard nipples, and a pussy so wet that you think the dildo would’ve slipped out if not for the chastity belt holding it in place. You hear him humming a song in the kitchen, and then he’s shouting for your attention. “Do you want a snack? I’m making one for myself.”

You’re gonna die.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s hard to lose yourself in the film Jeongin’s requested to watch with you. The throw blanket from the sofa is soft on your legs, now only clad in your underwear and your t-shirt. Jeongin’s broad chest is pressed against your back, chin hooked over the top of your head as you attempt to focus on the television. Jeongin’s ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing at the appropriate times, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t pay attention either.

Ten hours. Two to go. It’s late now, the only lights in the room being from the Christmas tree and the television. It’s cozy. You hum in approval. If you really try to relax your walls around the dildo, it’s like it’s not there at all.

“He bought her a necklace!” Jeongin squeaks, distraught at the scene playing in front of you. What film is it again? Ah, Love Actually? He did indeed buy her that necklace, and it normally breaks your heart every time, but your vision is hazy. Two hours.

Jeongin shifts, pulling the blanket further over his back until his hips are pressed against your ass. You blink in surprise. He’s hard, but he seems to be ignoring it in favour of watching the film.

You can’t have that. You wiggle your hips under the guise of getting comfortable, and Jeongin’s breath halts.

“Watch the film, jagi,” His voice is stern, but you don’t miss how it’s slightly shaky. “I don’t want to leave that belt on you any longer than necessary.”

That stops you moving. You bite your lip, a shiver wracking through your whole body.

“Mm, actually… It sounds quite good, doesn’t it?” He sighs, his hand moving to your waist. One arm slinks under your head as a makeshift pillow, keeping you in place, and the other grips the flesh on your middle. With a soft noise, he’s grinding against your ass, thick and hard and making you wish he’d just fuck that hole instead. “Keeping you in this longer. You’re already so desperate. Maybe I could play around with you a bit more, try and push that wand vibrator you love so much against the belt to see if you can still cum. Would you?”

You huff in response, eyes watering, and Jeongin’s hand moves from your waist to your chin. He turns you to face him in a quick, tight movement, squishing your cheeks, and his foxlike eyes have never looked more intimidating.

“Would you? Would you cum for me, soak that metal with your cum and still beg for me to take it off after?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow in question, and you nod, trying not to buck your hips backwards into his. It’s a slow, sinuous grind, and you pray internally that he isn’t going to make himself cum like this. He taps your face teasingly, a light smack, and it makes you keen. He snickers, dropping your chin. “I knew you would. Slut.”

“I’m- I’m not a-“

“Oh, but you fucking are,” You let him manhandle you, pushing you down so you’re laying on your front. He humps into you quicker, cock slotting into your asscheeks even through the fabric. The movement has the dildo moving inside of you just a tad, and your hands grip the sofa, eyes rolling back with a desperate sound. “Two hours. It took you two hours to whine and throw a tantrum, and now you’ve got two hours left and you’re still whining. God, do you know how fucking hard that makes me?”

The dildo’s moving. It’s moving inside of you, just an inch, but you think you might cry. “Hnnnmfg, oh, oh, Jeongin-“

“No,” He flips off of you, ushers you onto your side once more and back into your spooning position. He’s kept his hips back, cock no longer pressing into you. It must be throbbing, aching with release, and the thought has you gushing even more around the dildo. “Watch the film. It gets even better.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Please! Please, please, Jeongin, Innie, baby, please-“

Jeongin’s got you fully naked on the bed, bare skin apart from the belt still locked around your hips. It hurts at this point with how much he’s been teasing you just from his mere existence, but you’ve got fifteen minutes left. It’s 11:45. Just another fifteen minutes.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, long fingers tracing over your thighs. He’s naked too, cock hanging heavy between his own lithe thighs and abs bared to the light from your bedside lamp. He looks downright erotic, blonde and black waves of hair obscuring his face but not able to hide the wet noises of his mouth on your tits. The key still sits securely on a chain around his neck, teasing, staring you dead in the eyes.

“Ssh,” He coos, blowing cold air over the pebbled bud. “Fifteen minutes, jagi. Let me play, yeah?”

You want to scream, thrash your legs and cry that you’ve been letting him play all damn day and it hurts now, but you know Jeongin. He’ll make good on his promise to leave you locked up for longer without even blinking an eye. He’s mean.

“Okay. Okay, okay, please, suck me harder. Innie, please,” You pant, chest heaving. Jeongin hums with a grin, satisfied, and he leans down to suckle on you once again. His mouth is so wet, so warm, and you think fleetingly that you could probably cum from this if he told you to. Your nipples are red and abused by now, but you still clutch the pillows beneath your head for dear life and hope that he’ll give your clit the same treatment.

He pops off the bud once again, and then he’s crawling up your body, firm biceps caging your head. His cock rests on the cursed chastity belt, and the coolness of the metal on his cockhead has him hissing.

“Baby,” Jeongin blinks down at the belt, a crooked smile on his lips. Oh, no. “You know, I could probably cum from humping against this. Spill my cum all over the belt and leave you there, crying, so all you can do is dip your fingers in and swallow my cum in the hopes that I’ll come back and give you more.”

“Please don’t,” You whine, shaking your head. Your eyes water with unshed tears, glassy, and you let out an incoherent noise when he humps against you once, twice, three times. Jeongin shushes you, thumb dipping over your wet bottom lip. You still continue, desperate. “Innie, Innie, no! I’ve been good, don’t do that, please, I couldn’t-“

“Okay, okay,” He chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. His digit pushes past your lips, and you suck on it diligently, blinking up at him with pure unadulterated need. “I won’t. Besides, you’ve got ten minutes now. I think I want you to suck my cock.”

You want that. Nothing’s ever sounded so good to your ears, and you nod eagerly, making him smile again. He flips you over, splaying back against the sheets and guiding you on top of him. It’s only after a chaste kiss to the lips does he push your head down, your mouth kissing down his milky skin obediently.

He’s wet, you realise, leaking precum on the trimmed hair at his base. You can’t even stare at his cock and just appreciate it, partially due to knowing that your pussy will just ache more and partially due to the fact that you have to have it in your mouth before you die from need.

“Deepthroat it for me,” Jeongin breathes, one arm behind his head. He’s the epitome of relaxation as you try to force your mouth down on him, tasting the leaking pearlescent cum on his cockhead and spreading it around. He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as his spare hand goes to your hair. “That’s it. Wetter, get it wetter.”

You try. You truly do try, but the only wetness right now is coming from your eyes as you cry. You want to spit on his cock, to get it wet and to make him approve of your actions, but your mouth is dry from pure want. You can’t wait to see how he’s going to fuck you after he unlocks your belt. It’s all you can think about.

His long fingers envelop in your hair, yanking your head off, and he sits up. You watch in awe as he spits on his own cock, pulling your head back and using his thumb to open your lips again. His cock is already slick with his spit, but he spits in your mouth anyway, before he’s pulling your mouth back to his cock.

“Ah, that’s better,” Jeongin hums, relaxing back against the sheets again. “Nice and wet. Will your pussy be wetter than this? I bet it will be, gushing on that tiny dildo all day. God, you’re such a whore for letting me do this.”

You whine around his shaft, bobbing your head as much as you can with the tight grip on your locks. He doesn’t let you breathe, hips starting to fuck sinuously into the tight heat you’ve provided him, and you feel jealous. How come he gets this, and you get nothing? You blink. It has to be five more minutes by now. Five minutes, and you can-

“Not long, baby,” He murmurs, licking his lips over and over. “Keep taking it for me. I’ll keep my cum for your little cunt, don’t worry.”

You’re squirming against the sheets, trying to create a semblance of what Jeongin did to you earlier for some friction on your core. He seems to let it slide despite looking down at you, balls slapping against your chin with every thrust into your throat. You’re gagging, drooling even more down his thick cock, and you let your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of being used like your boyfriend’s own personal fucktoy. It’s all you’d ever want for Christmas.

“Fucking hell,” He grunts, pulling your head off of him. You let him throw you back to the bed by your hair, and then he’s ripping the chain directly off of his neck and shoving the key in the padlock of your belt.

“Yes, yes, yes, please! Off, off, I need you,” Your voice is hoarse, gravelly from the rough treatment, and Jeongin nods with agreement. He knows. He’s not going to punish you for being desperate, and you don’t even know if it’s midnight, but he yanks the offending pleasure cage down your legs and throws it to the floor with a clatter. You can’t even mourn the loss of the dildo when you know you’re getting so much better.

You wail as he pumps his cock a few times, spreading the remaining slick up his length. His chest is heaving, eyes dark. “Legs up. Get those fucking legs up, show me your pussy, I need to be inside of you.”

You obey, hands sinking into the pits of your knees to bend yourself in half, and Jeongin surges forward. He positions his cockhead inbetween your folds, finding your drippy, needy hole. With a sigh, his cock slides inside of you, your walls wet and gummy and so easy to accept the intrusion. You moan so loud that you’re convinced that the world shakes.

“Ah, there we go,” Jeongin groans, and his hips are snapping into yours immediately. It feels so good that you begin to cry again, hands gripping onto your knees for dear life. “There’s that slutty little cunt. F-fuck, was it worth the wait? Does my cock feel good? Tell me, jagiya, tell me.”

“So good, ‘s good, so big, so thick, I’ll- hnnnfg, Jeongin, I need to cum, please!”

“You’re so good, baby,” He coos, cock punching against your g-spot. Touching your clit just once would have you cumming around him but something tells you Jeongin hasn’t got a lot left in him either. Sweat beads above his eyebrow, dripping down his temple. “Touch yourself. C’mon, s-show me how you touch that clit, fuck.”

You let one hand slide from your knee and Jeongin’s quick to press his chest against you firmer, keeping you bent in half. You take two fingers and press them between his lips, and he sucks on them, maintaining eye contact during it. It’s the dirtiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you have to reach down and blindly find your clit, swollen and aching and peeking through your pliant folds.

The first pressing of your fingers makes you near-scream, toes curling, and Jeongin grips your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are hazy, unfocused and glassy, and you rub and rub and rub until you think you’re going to ascend.

“There she is, look at you,” Jeongin grunts, voice shaking. He fucks into your pussy over and over, wet slapping noises overtaking your senses. “Cum for me. Good fucking girl, my perfect slut, cum for me.”

You whine, legs shaking, and then you’re cumming. Your pussy gushes so hard Jeongin has to pull out, and he instantly hooks two long fingers inside of your hole with a loud groan of his own to crook them up against your g-spot. Your pussy only gushes more, your ears ringing with the force of your orgasm, drool dribbling out of your lips. You continue to rub your clit, spraying cum over your lover, and as soon as the last dribble leaves your messy cunt Jeongin’s sinking right back into home.

“Gonna make me cum,” He warns, shaking his head in disbelief. His hair sticks to his forehead, damp from sweat. “Squirted so fucking much, baby, dirty little slut, so horny from me locking that clit up, I’ll- god, I’m gonna cum inside of you.”

“Please,” You slur, hand resting on your clit with no movement. “Fill me up, sir, please.”

Jeongin groans, loud and steady into the expanse of your room, and then his hips stall. They shake with the intensity of his orgasm, his cock pulsing hot white into your pussy until it’s gushing out around his cock. You feel drunk with it, eyes rolling back into your head as he continues to make noise, riding out the pleasure.

You do really feel like you’ve ascended. You barely notice when Jeongin gets up and wipes you with a warm towel, humming the tune to another Christmas song, and you barely notice when he slides back onto the dirty sheets and pulls you into his chest. It’s only when you realise he’s talking do you blink back into reality.

“The necklace, jagi,” He huffs, and you furrow your eyebrows. He’s still thinking about that film. “Not even for his own wife. Like-“

“Jeongin, you just fucked my brains out and you’re still on about Love Actually.”

Jeongin goes quiet, and then he laughs, kissing your forehead. “Sorry. I doubt you paid attention though, so we’ll watch it again tomorrow. Merry Christmas. I love you more than anything.”

“Merry Christmas, I love you more than anything,” You slur back, eyes already heavy with sleep. Jeongin’s laughing again, you note, but you’re already curling up and falling asleep.

He’ll have to deal with the two of you not changing the sheets later, but you’ll have presents to open first.