#and have sweatpants similar to that
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popcorn-plots · 1 month ago
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.....I have extra Cloak magnets and I could probably find some cheap second-hand winter clothing... and that mug would not be hard to find and/or paint..... hear me out
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rainydayathogwarts · 1 month ago
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Concussions and interruptions - Harry Potter
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summary: You aren't expecting to meet Harry's parents for the first time while you share an intimate moment in the hospital wing after he sustains another quidditch injury. obviously jily is alive and well.. slytherin!reader wc: 1.1k
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You looked up at Harry lovingly, pulling your legs up on the bed as you rested your head on his shoulder, reaching up to brush long strands of hair out of his face. Harry scrunched his face up, smiling with his eyes closed as your fingers grazed his skin, before opening them again and returning your gaze. The hospital wing was oddly quiet, especially after such an intense Quidditch game. The day had been long enough, having to endure classes while the entire school hyped itself up for the big match, and Harry inevitably ended up making his day longer thanks to the addition of his new concussion. 
You’d waited until Harry’s teammates and friends had all left the hospital wing before taking your place next to him, hand resting atop his. He smelled clean, having showered and changed into a clean t-shirt and sweatpants “It’s a phenomenon how you’re so often the only person injured after a game.” Harry chuckled, squeezing your hand softly “Yeah well your house mates really have it out for me.” You cocked your head to the side, biting your lip. Well, you couldn’t argue with that. “Hey, if you’d been a Slytherin, that wouldn’t be the case.” Harry scoffed at your words, but you continued speaking nonetheless, a grin forming on your face, clueless to the wooden doors of the hospital wing creaking open and the two figures approaching you. “Besides, you look way better in green than red.” Harry raised his eyebrows challengingly, the movement in unison with his father’s just behind you. “Yeah well you look better in red than green.” 
You shook your head in disagreement, straightening up on the bed. Harry’s eyes were so focused on you that he hadn’t realised his parents coming to a stop behind you, waiting for their son to notice their obstructed presence. Harry stared at you with adoration, watching closely as you mercilessly tugged at your green tie until it became loose enough to fit around your head. You took Harry’s glasses of with care, putting them in the breast pocket of your shirt while carefully pulling your tie around your boyfriend’s neck. “I’m being serious, look.” Tightening the tie around Harry’s neck, you leaned across him to grab the mirror on his side table, unblocking the two adults behind you from his view. Harry squinted, struggling from the lack of visual aid, but the bright red hair of his mum and strong figure of his dad spoiled the surprise. 
“Here.” You huffed, handing the boy the mirror, but only then did you realise his distracted gaze. Turning around on the bed, your jaw dropped, immediately recognising both your boyfriend’s parents, neither of which you’d ever met before. Lily and James stood with locked arms and matching smiles on their faces, looks of fondness on their faces. You felt heat shoot up your neck at the recognition that they’d witnessed your intimate moment, and ducked your head away, distracting yourself by returning Harry’s glasses. Standing up suddenly, you freed space for Harry's parents on the bed. Lily ducked, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead before sitting next to him, while James stood, watching you closely until he averted his watch to his son, stating "Got a call someone got a concussion." James grinned at Harry, who returned the smile, running a hand through his hair.
Glancing at your feet, you debated on leaving the hospital wing to allow the family some time alone. Your thoughts, however, were interrupted by a hand clasping around your shoulder. Looking up suddenly, you were taking aback by Harry's father, and more so how similar he looked to your boyfriend. "You're right kid, he does look better in green. Now you wanna tell me which of your friends knocked my kid off his broom?" You opened your mouth, turning to Harry in search for an answer, but only finding the kind yet intimidating eyes of his mother, turned back to James. "It was Malfoy." You said quietly, eyes wide in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I can leave you guys alone." You muttered again, gesturing towards the tall doors.
"Nonsense!" Lily stood from the bed, approaching you while throwing her husband a scolding look. "James you're scaring her!" She whispered, though you're sure it was loud enough for even Harry to hear. "Honestly you're both scaring me." You spoke truthfully, and James barked out a laugh, pointing accusingly at his wife. "No sweetheart," Lily started, placing her hands on your shoulders and guiding you back to Harry's bed. "That's ridiculous, we've heard so many great things about you." Your mouth fell agape as you took your place next to your boyfriend once more, eyes going wide. Your strict pureblooded parents didn't even know about your relationship with Harry. You thought the same went with him. "Oh."
Harry placed his hand over yours, squeezing it tightly. His parents shot each other a confused and somewhat worrisome look. "Y/n's parents wouldn't approve of someone who isn't a slytherin or a pureblood, so they don't know." Lily and James both nodded in understanding, but now they were worried for you. It wasn't as bad as Sirius's parents had been, was it? An awkward silence fell amongst you, and you felt the need to fill it, mumbling "Let me take my tie back." Harry shut his eyes, letting you unfasten your tie from his neck and tying it around yours, occupying yourself with the quick movements which you deliberately slowed down to ponder over the situation.
"I'll give you guys some time alone." You spoke again, leaning down to pick up your bag from its spot on the floor and placing it on your lap. You glanced at Harry, smiling at him, before his hand was wrapping around your tie and pulling you closer to him. You gasped when his lips briefly met yours, feeling the heat creep up to your face, and abruptly stood, strictly avoiding eye contact with either of his parents. "It was nice to meet you!" You squeaked, trotting over to the doors in a rush, clutching the bag on your shoulder tightly.
Harry grinned, eyes glued to the spot where you disappeared between the two doors, before he was brought out of his chance by his mother. "Harry Potter, you are evil." She half-scolded, a smile on her face nonetheless. James took your spot next to Harry on the hospital bed, a wide grin on his face as he said "The girl was already nervous enough to meet us, now I don't think she'll ever be able to face us ever again."
"Yeah she will," Replied Harry, pushing his glasses higher up his nose "Give her a year or two."
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cuteandhughesy · 7 days ago
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Please Please Please | Luke Hughes
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summary: navigating a secret relationship with your brothers teammate is turning out to be a little harder than you expected. the 3 times you and luke were almost caught + the 1 time you are caught.
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warnings: NSFW! pre-established relationship | brothers teammate trope | lazar! reader | sneaking around | kissing | suggestive dialogue and scenes | the tiniest sprinkle of smut but no actual sex | read at your own discretion
a/n: formed based on this request! i’m working on a good chunk of fics and similar stuff so keep your eyes open 💕 for now…enjoy! it’s been so long since i’ve written for luke..I missed him.
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one
"we really shouldn't be doing this..." luke's hushed words trail off, whispered against your slick lips as you two move through the room, stumbling over loose shoes and discarded clothes. his hands run up your torso hurriedly—yet smoothly—squeezing your skin in his palms like he can't get enough of you, despite his words. it's a sweet gesture, one that only turns you on further.
you shush him gently, dismissing his hesitance. you pull away from him slightly, but still close enough that you could lean back in at any moment and continue your hurried kiss. "please." you pout slightly, looking up through your lashes. you're so wound up from just kissing luke, you're not sure if you'll be able to stop now—despite the circumstances.
so regardless of your own selflessness—you can understand luke's apprehension. after all, if you were in his shoes you'd probably be shitting bricks right about now. your hands fall away from luke's broad shoulders, letting them trail down his chest until you reach his hips. slowly, you slip your fingers into the waistband of luke's sweats, and begin pulling him forward. "we just have to be really quiet."
luke stumbles slightly, caught off guard by your sudden movements. regardless, he follows easily, allowing you to bring him towards the edge of the bed. in that moment you're thankful the upstairs bedroom floors are carpeted, and the wobbly footsteps are muffled by the rug under your and luke’s socked feet.
the back of your knees meet the edge of the bed, and that has you falling back into the mass of blankets, releasing your hold on the elastic waistband around luke's ridiculously attractive hips—which, before you even met luke, you didn't even think hips could be so hot, but you'd been very quickly proven wrong.
you blink up at luke lazily, making your gaze come across as sensual as possible. you bring your knees up, and slowly your legs part, revealing the thin material off your blueberry printed panties—just visible under your shifted pyjama shorts.
but luke doesn't bite. he stays stagnant at the end of the bed, shirtless and visibly turned on—the straining situation under the soft material of his sweatpants giving him away.
his brows furrow. "what if curtis comes up here." luke questions, the worry evident in his expression. he gently rubs along his growing stubble, deep in thought as he continues to eye you. "what if we get caught?" luke's hesitant eyes flicker towards your closed bedroom door—well, your brother and his wife's guest bedroom door.
you were finishing up your final year of university in jersey, and instead of paying the ridiculous residence fees, curtis offered you the spare bedroom in his families home. and with that came a lot of social situations involving your brothers teammates. whether it was team dinners at different houses, or crowded bars after games, you were there—which is where you met luke.
luke seemed to always be around, and that combined with the constant banter he has with your brother, had you feeling enamoured with the youngest hughes brother very soon after curtis introduced you two. you found yourselves drawn to one another, and if one of you was near, the other wasn't far behind. you and luke quickly started dating—behind the back of your brother of course.
curtis has always been protective of you, especially when it comes to your relationships. it all comes from a good place, even if it made dating extremely difficult for you. curtis has always made sure to drill the negative stigma around young hockey players into your head—how he would never want you to date one...especially if said hockey player was one of his own teammates.
locker room talk was inevitable, and curtis didn't want to subject you to any of that ridiculous stuff or make you uncomfortable. and you didn't mind that protective rule of curtis' because you've never had an attraction to any of his teammates—until luke.
with that in mind, you and luke found yourself involved in a secret relationship. there's many measures you'd both take to ensure your romance stayed under wraps—you'd plan your calls around schedules, allowing yourselves to talk freely without your brother listening in. as well, you and luke would always plan secret dates, giving excuses of seeing friends in the city while you're actually tangled in whoever's bed is free. during gatherings, you'd be sneaking off into dark rooms, kissing like horny teenagers—it was all a thrill, one that you and luke found yourselves growing accustomed to, and honestly preferred.
you and luke were always careful—especially if curtis was around. if your brother was near, you and luke simply wouldn't sneak away, both too worried about getting caught and loosing the excitement and intimacy of your secret life.
but tonight was different.
the devils had been away on a week long road trip, expanding along the west coast and visiting teams like the sharks and kings. with the change in time zones, sneaking calls and facetimes with your boyfriend was practically impossible, and you and luke had only texted every few days to check in.
the interfering schedules and lack of communication left you and luke missing each other more than usual, and as soon as the devils plan landed back on jersey soil, you were practically vibrating with need.
when you proposed the idea of sneaking luke into the house once everyone had gone to bed, you didn't think he'd agree, but surprisingly enough he did. luke was apprehensive at first—which is understandable— because seeing one another while you're brother was home was always a big no-no. but the combination of the time missed between you and your pouty voice, luke had no choice but to agree.
slowly you unfold your leg, lifting your foot until you meet luke's shoulder. you nudge the buff surface with your sock covered toes, pulling luke's attention away from the bedroom door and back to you.
luke's gaze moves over you, shifting from your plump, spit slicked lips, down to your barley covered core and thin tank top that gives him the perfect outline of your pebbled nipples. he swallows roughly, a blush covering his high cheek bones.
"we won't get caught." you whisper seductively, your foot slowly trailing down his arm.
suddenly luke grabs onto your ankle, bringing your foot closer to his face. "you're such a bad influence." luke presses a soft kiss on your exposed ankle, right over the beaded anklet decorating you. his eyes don't leave your face, and as he slowly pulls away, a smirk begins to pull at his lips—tempting you.
you take your lip between your teeth. "you gunna punish me?"
he breathes a laugh, and manoeuvres your leg back into his spread, bent position. "you want me to punish you?"
you watch through hooded eyes as luke crawls onto the bed, moving until he's hovering over your flushed body. instantly your hands are in hair, running through his light curls, feeling the defined pattern between your fingers. "maybe I do."
his eyes flutter closed at the feeling, a small whimper passing through his parted lips. luke's large palm runs up your side, scooping under your tank until he's feeling your bare skin—running his thumb over your nipple.
you arch into him, a breathy moan leaving your lips, goosebumps covering your skin in the wake of luke's gentle touches.
luke kisses you slowly, a deep and bruising pressure that has you tingling all the way down to your toes. your lips part instinctively, moaning into luke's mouth as his continues to kiss yours, lips passing over yours in a gentle, slick embrace.
you're so easily distracted by luke's presence and touch, and you find yourself falling into a trance like state—loosing yourself in him. you find yourself here anytime you're with luke, always so easily falling into this intimate pattern. so it comes as suprise when your ears pick up on a dull thump in the distance, almost echoing through the quiet home.
"did you hear that?" you pull away from luke hurriedly, brows furrowed as you try and concentrate and listen further—straining your ears in attempt to catch any more sounds from beyond your bedroom.
luke whimpers at the loss of contact, eyes fluttering open to reveal his glossy, lustful eyes. "hear what?"
the dull thudding noise continues, increasing as if it was coming closer— sounding like somebody is walking, moving up the stairs towards your room. you gasp lightly, and with all the strength you can find, you push luke off the bed.
your sudden actions catch him off guard, and he goes easily, tumbling onto the rug with a loud thud. he groans out, and watches as you peek over the edge of the bed—your eyes blown wide with worry.
just before he can question your behaviour, you interrupt him, your tone hushed and full of fear. "it's curtis."
luke's face falls. "it's curtis?"
you nod quickly, looking in the direction of the door anxiously, listening as your brothers steps grow closer. you look back down at luke, "you gotta get under the bed."
"i'm not going to fit under the bed." luke whispers roughly, his own gaze darting between your nervous eyes and the bedroom door.
"well you gotta make it work, luke." you whisper wildly, shooing him. "scoot under—now."
the urgency in your voice has luke springing into action. he grabs onto the wooden frame of the bed, pulling himself under your bed. the rug rubs his bare back uncomfortably and the dust under the mattress is tickling his noise dangerously. the space is limited, and dirty, but you're not even thinking about that right now.
all you can focus on is the sound of curtis footsteps right outside the door, and just as the golden handle begins turning, luke finally gets situated under your bed, hiding from not only your sight, but hopefully your brothers.
you whip around just as the hinges squeak open, curtis appearing from behind the oak door. "hey." he greets you gently, still rubbing the sleep out of his eye with the palm of his hand. "are you talking to someone?"
you can feel the colour drain from your face, swallowing roughly as you keep your gaze ahead. "no?" your voice is definitely too high—too suspicious—answering quickly.
curtis's gaze narrows. "really? I thought I heard something." you watch in horror as your brother begins to look around the room, his movements suspiciously nonchalant as he scans the area—you can only pray that luke's feet aren't sticking out from underneath the mattress
you desperately need to get your brothers attention again and stop him from snooping around your space—you're pretty sure luke's phone is on the dresser. quickly, you spin your body to fully face curtis, clearing your throat. "well, I was watching a movie."
curtis' eyes flicker back to yours and away from your desk, his brows raised questionably. then, slowly, his gaze moves towards the tv on the wall. "the tv is broken."
you curse inwardly, swallowing thick salvia. "on my phone."
"okay..."he trails off. "just coming to check on you, making sure you were alright—couldve swore I heard something." your brother doesn't look all too convinced with what you're saying, and his pointed gaze has yet to waver.
you plaster on a smile. "oh i'm just peachy, curtis. thanks."
"you're acting weird."
"am I?" you question highly, crossing your arms.
he hums in answer, eyeing you suspiciously. "must just be tired. right?"
"right." you exhale shakily, and at this point you can only pray for this conversation to come to a close. subconsciously your eyes trail towards the bed, checking to make sure luke was still hidden.
curtis hums again, pulling your attention back to him. "better get to sleep then. goodnight."
you breathe, smiling again. "night."
he sends you one more curious look over his shoulder before he finally leaves, shutting the door with a gentle thud. the entire time you feel like you're going to die.
as soon as his feet sound descending back down the stairs, you're moving, practically skipping towards the bed.
your drop down on your stomach, looking under the gap between the floor and the mattress. "luke? are you breathing?"
he exhales loudly. "barley."
you send him a guilty smile. "guess we won't try this again, huh?"
two
luke pulls his hoodie over his torso, stretching his tired muscles as he adjust the material over his body.
the practice that finished only half hour ago was a taxing one. after a rough loss the previous night—one that he'd been cross checked in the ribs three separate times without a call—coach had been extra hard on the group today, which left luke even more sore and exhausted.
he shakes out his freshly washed hair, ruffling the curls between his fingers after they'd been flatted by his devils branded hood. the fuzzy material sticks to his damp chest, as luke was too tired to properly dry his skin—he just wanted to get home and call you, letting you coo at him and call him pretty (he loves it more than he’d ever admit).
"hey rusty." curtis distinctive teasing voice sounds behind luke, and he feels the center man’s hand on his shoulder, a rough squeeze in greeting. "you heading home now?"
curtis drops down to his reprieve stall—the one beside luke's—towel still around his waist as he pulls on his t-shirt, looking at the defence man expectantly.
luke swallows gently, giving curtis a quick nod. "yeah," he grabs his duffle bag, one full of extra hockey gear he always brings back and forth to the rink. "jacks already outside, said he wanted to shower when he got home."
"right on." curtis hums, pulling on his socks.
the sporadic buzzing noise of an incoming call draws the attention of both athletes, and their eyes are pulled to luke's beaten up phone, sitting screen up on the stall seat.
it's you. you're calling him.
curtis's brows raise, and he makes a teasing noise. "russssttttyyyy, who the hell is lovey?" before luke can even react, curtis picks up the phone, inspecting the profile picture set for your contact that’s flashing on the screen. thank god it’s an inconspicuous mirror pic, one lacking your face—luke can only pray curtis doesn’t inspect that picture too hard. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."
luke swallows, eyes darting between the centerman and the phone clutched in his calloused hands. "I don't."
"there's a heart beside the name." he deadpans. "should I answer it and ask her about it instead?"
"no!" luke lunges towards his phone, but curtis is quicker, standing from is stall and side stepping the youngest hughes.
"easy dude. what's the big deal." with a breathy laugh, curtis slides his thumb across the answer button, picking up your incoming call.
"dude." luke grabs the phone from his hands just before curtis can place it to his ear. "a little privacy." the awkward chuckle that leaves him is almost embarrassing, and the way his hands have started shaking and the blush covering luke from head to toe is also humiliating.
curtis laughs, clearly finding amusement in luke's clear embarrassment. "i'm literally standing in front of you with my dick out, but sure rusty, i'll leave your secret girlfriend alone."
luke can just hear your muffled voice through the phone, muttering his name questionably—no doubt wondering what the fuck is going on. "sorry she's just...shy. you'll meet her one day."
curtis snickers, finally pulling on his sweats. "i'm sure I will."
luke nods—unsure what to say.
"better get going, rusty. think somebody is probably waiting to hear your voice." the center man's eyes dart between him and the phone in his hands, brows raised knowingly.
"right." he swallows, "see you later." luke practically runs out of the locker room, and as soon as he makes it down the hall, he raises the phone to his ear, hurriedly explaining to you the close call he'd just encountered with curtis.
three
you didn’t mean to have that many drinks—really, you didn't. but a couple of your friends from class invited you out to celebrate the ending semester, and because you all passed, they said drinks were in order and you had to join.
a few hours and many drinks in, you were practically falling over. you had stayed out later than you originally planned on, and curtis would be long asleep by now—leaving you with limited options for getting home.
drink you—ever to clingy girlfriend—called luke almost instantly.and obviously luke picked up on the first ring, despite the early morning time, and of course he came to the bar as soon as you asked.
which brings you to right now, knees weak as you sway on the your homes front porch, pouting at your boyfriend in the cold winter night.
luke looks down at you gently, his eyes full of exhaustion. but yet, there’s a hint of amusement in them, and the edge of his mouth is turned up in a lazy smirk.
"kiss me goodnight." you drunkenly slur for the 10th time since luke guided you out of the car. you are looking at your boyfriend expectantly, an impatient whine leaving your lips. "please baby."
it's so dark outside he can barley make out your features, but he can see the way your hazy eyes twinkle at him—silently begging. luke's gaze flickers towards the ring camera quickly, praying that it's one that isn't an audio recorder, and if it does pick up sound, luke hopes you're too quiet to catch.
you’ve both always been careful with the camera before this, and if the lazar house was the only option for your…escapades, you’d both avoid the camera expertly—sneaking through windows and back doors like misbehaved children.
but you’re too drunk to even think about that, and luke’s too tired to even attempt sneaking you through the back door.
your pout turns into a smile, and your arms snake up his body, wrapping around his neck and pulling yourself up to your toes. "please please please please."
he sighs gently, glancing at the camera again. in a moment of weakness, he decides it's probably to dark too make out any kind of facial features through the camera anyway, and if he doesn't kiss you now, the camera will be the least of his worries.
so luke wraps his arms around your waist tighter, keeping your sway steady. he leans down, pecking your lips so quickly that he hopes even if the camera can see him, the affection was so brief that in a blink you'd miss it. "okay now go inside."
your grin widens, and as you finally pull away from luke, you're overjoyed and satisfied.
when you wake the next morning, you feel yourself panic—flashes of the kiss on the porch and the ring camera running through your mind.
you wait anxiously for curtis to bring it up and call you out for kissing his teammate in front of the front door...but it never comes.
the ring camera hasn't worked for a week—and that has you breathing a sigh of relief when your sister-in-law mentions it the following evening.
+one
you can't even think logically as you rush through the crowded arena, weaving through bodies as you clutch the pass around your neck, anxiously fiddling with the lanyard.
the scene in your head is playing on repeat—watching luke get thrown to the ice during the messy scrum from only minutes ago, his head slamming against the ice as he hit the ground.
you'd shot up from your seat, worry sketched across your face as you watched luke laying limp on the ice as the trainer spoke into his ear—the fear all but consumed you. jack's girlfriend tried to console you—comfort you—but nothing was helping.
you gave it 5 minutes. 5 minutes after they helped luke off the ice and down to the assessment room, before you were out of your seat, mumbling some excuse to sammy as you left.
you make your way through the tunnels easily, very much used to the area and familiar with the space after many visits with curtis. you find the assessment room easily, the door left open the smallest crack so you're able to subtly peek in—so if someone else is in there with him, you won’t be caught.
but it's just luke, sitting slumped on a doctor like bed with his eyes closed—arms crossed over his chest guard, his jerseys discarded in a sweaty lump on the metal table beside him.
with the coast clear, you push open the door fully, letting it softly swing closed behind you. the sound has luke's eyes fluttering open, and he immediately finds your worried eyes blinking back at him.
you breathe a heavy exhale, a slight wobble in the sound that portrays the emotion crawling up your throat—desperate to be let out. all the fear and stress and worry you've been feeling for the past 6 minutes are coming to a hilt, and you rush towards your boyfriend with a pout pulling at your lips. "are you okay?"
"hey." he mumbles gently, brows pulled tightly as you appear his side. "what are you doing down here?"
you gently take ahold of his face, eyes frantically bouncing around as if you're trying to locate any injuries. "luke, holy shit. I was so scared." tears begin welling in your eyes, bottom lip trembling. “you weren’t moving.”
luke slowly swings his legs over the side of the medical bed, cooing gently. your hands fall from his face in favour of wiping your own, catching the trail of water as it cascades down your cheeks.
luke's hockey pant covered thighs part, creating enough space for you to stand between them. he wraps his arm around you waist, bringing you into his embrace. you go easily, tears continuing to cloud your vision as you fall into his sweaty chest. "i'm sorry I scared you." he mumbles into your hair, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.
you shake your head. "are you okay?" you ask again, pulling back just enough to look into his warm eyes. “what did they say?”
"i've got a concussion most likely, but i'll be fine." luke's words are reassuring, and so is the kiss he presses against your cheek. he's coherent, and he's moving—he's okay.
"is there anything you need from me?" you ask gently, pushing his wet curls off his forehead—something you’d always find yourself doing.
luke’s eyes flutter slightly at the comforting action. his soft grin turns boyish, and silently he purses his lips, asking for a kiss.
you roll your eyes gently, but oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. luke sighs pleasantly, parting his lips as he begins to deepen the kiss, pulling your body in tighter.
you smile into it, which allows luke the access to slip his tongue past your bottom lip, and you let him. his hand travels down your back, slowly tickling the expanse of your skin until he's rounding over the curve of your ass, giving your cheek a firm squeeze.
"alright rusty if you're gunna kiss my sister here, the least you could do is not play grab ass while you do it." the sudden voice of curtis has you pulling away, and you turn towards the door in record speed.
you'd been too lost in the trance luke always put you in—to absorbed in his body and lips that you'd missed not only the end of period buzzer echoing throughout the arena, but the door opening behind you.
you're too scared too move—too scared to even blink. you look at curtis with wide eyes, your face void of colour, giving you a lifeless look. and luke's no better, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish and his hand still on your ass cheek—even after you turned around.
you push his hand away and swallow roughly. "curtis...I-we can explain."
your brother shrugs. "there's nothing to explain. I know."
your brows shoot up. "you know?"
curtis nods triumphantly, looking rather pleased with himself. this time it's luke who speaks, swallowing the little salvia lingering in his dry mouth. "what-I-how?" he stutters.
"that night awhile back, when I came to check on you, luke's sweater was on your chair." he looks at you playfully, "I saw the number and I knew."
now you're going red, felling a wave of guilt and embarrassment creep in on you. "i'm sorry."
"we're sorry." luke adds gently. "we shouldn't of kept it a secret."
"I'm not mad—just a little disappointed that I was left out of the loop." then, curtis expression changes, looking at you with a gentle smile. "out of all the guys on this team you couldn't picked...rusty's the best one."
you smile, glancing up at luke.
he meets your gaze, and he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you back into his side.
"consider yourself in the loop." you chime through and exhale, looking back towards curtis.
"good." he nods, his usual teasing expression back on his face. curtis looks at luke, a brow raised. "so, were you under the bed or in the closet?"
you feel luke stiffen beside you, and you can't help but laugh.
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cult-of-the-eye · 10 months ago
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Ooh fun facts
I am a non-identical twin
Some of my poems have been published
I can speak Bangla (not fluently but I can hold a conversation) and understand a little bit of hindi
No pressure tags: @edenstwiilight, @deathapartment, @internal-screaming-into-the-void, @melandrops, @nerdypixel and anyone else!!
if you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog !
I was born with an extra set of ribs :D
Green is my favourite colour
And
I have a very unhealthy obsession with dragons (which somehow didn’t bleed into this blog )
@very-evil-bubbles @smelgor @the-ghost-of-a-spirit @thejokig23 @chasmwilt @inwayovermyhead and @ anyone else who wants to join in! (You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to!)
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luveline · 5 months ago
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hotch’s daughter and him looking thru baby n childhood pics n realizing just how much they missed angst (her missing out on having a present father n him missing out on raising her)
Aaron’s winded when he sees you that morning. You’re smiling, in sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag on your shoulder that promises an overnight stay, but what hits hardest is the way you light up when he opens the front door. He sees you coming through the window and can’t wait for you to knock. 
“Hey, honey, you’re early!” he says. 
“I know,” you say, stopping just a paving stone away, “but I got this magic jigsaw for Jack that I thought he’d like. Once you complete it you can move it around and create a new jigsaw in the middle.” You smile. “You look happy. Good breakfast?” 
“I’m happy to see you, that’s all.” 
You cross that last step. “Thanks, dad.” You bite your bottom lip, ever so slightly bashful. 
He literally couldn’t be happier. “Did you eat?” 
Aaron brings you inside. Jack is already awake and eating his second breakfast in a meandering picking by the TV. 
You love being a big sister. It’s all the more endearing. “Hey, babe. What are you upto?” you ask. 
Jack whirls and sends a couple of grapes flying. “Oh my gosh yes!” he says, to your laughter and Aaron’s disbelief. He races across the rug in a blur of blue pyjamas to wrap himself around your thighs, face pressed to your hip. “You’re here!” 
“We said Saturday sleepover, right?” 
You get down on your knees to hug him. Your arms around his back, your face to his, you aren’t as rough as you could be —how do sisters hug their brothers? Aaron doesn’t know. But you rub his back in a gentle up and down and lower your voice to say hello. “Hi, Jack. You’re happy to see me?” 
“I’m so happy.” 
“Me too, I’m so happy. I brought you something.” 
“A present?” Jack asks, leaning out of your arms. 
“Not really, it’s for me and you, but I brought you cookies too.” 
“Dad,” Jack says, “can we have some?” 
Aaron holds up a finger. One cookie is enough sugar for the morning. “We can have a couple more after dinner tonight, okay?” 
You take the cookies from your bag, a huge box of palm-sized cookies, chocolate chips shaped like stars, the best kind of indulgence from the bakery not far from here. Aaron catches a look at the inside of your bag, spying a slim white photo album against your weekly medication divider and the plastic wrapped jigsaw puzzle. 
“What’s the album?” he asks. 
“Oh.” You slide your thumb along the sticker that seals the cookies and crack them open for Jack to take his spoils. “They’re my baby photos.” 
He stills. “They are?” 
“And some of me growing up.” You tip your head at him and smile. A little shy, more happy. “I was thinking about Jack, how we both do that chokey laugh when we’re tired, and I wondered if we had any other similarities. And then I realised you’ve never actually seen any of my photos. Would you want to look at them?” 
“Please,” he says immediately. “Yes. I’d love to see them.” 
You lay the album out on the coffee table. Aaron sits beside you on the couch, and Jack sits on his feet, and together you look through your baby album one page at a time. At first, he’s quiet. He has no idea what to say. You are a beautiful kid, you’re perfect, little baby you with a pacifier on your tummy, or in the summer sun with mud on your little hands, wearing a pink dress with matching canvas shoes and a smile so wide he can see all your baby teeth, or sitting beside a fish tank with a party hat on. 
His favourite is a photograph of you that’s been printed oddly, more sepia than colour, where you look to be eight or nine years old. He can see everything in your adult face right there in ink, your smile, the trusting warmth in your eyes when you love the person it’s directed at. Maybe he’s full of himself, but he swears it’s his smile, and Jack’s smile. Hotchner through and through. 
“I wish I’d seen you in person,” he says quietly. “Just once.” 
You tease the photograph from the plastic sleeve and offer it to him. “Sorry.” 
He doesn’t want you to be sorry. Aaron takes the photograph and stares at it against his leg, your little face, your hands behind your back, your left knee wrapped in a bandage. “We missed out on so much,” he says softly. 
“I know.” 
He places the photo on the armrest, precious and needing a frame. You melt into his arm as he wraps it around your shoulder, and you let him kiss your temple, even if he doesn’t deserve to do it yet. He’s polite about it, he knows his sincerity might feel gratuitous to you —after all, he missed out on so much. But you don’t go rigid at his affection, you just breathe. 
“I would’ve loved to have seen it,” he says, too old for tears, and yet a warmth collects behind his eyes anyhow. He won’t cry, only the feeling is there and aching as you move back and give him a typical Hotchner smile. Like he’s being silly, and like you love him. 
“It’ll be okay,” you say, “you’ve got, what, a good ten years left? You can see my golden years.” 
He laughs suddenly. “Ten? How old do you think I am?” 
“You act like you’re nearing seventy.” 
“Oh, I do?” 
You roll your eyes and lean across the photo album for another cookie. “You do! I wish we didn’t have to wait so long to meet, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You won’t find me so charming in a few years, so don’t worry. Now, could you leave me and Jack alone for a bit? I’m trying to sneak him another cookie and you’re getting in the way.” 
Aaron hugs you whether you want him to or not, a tight squeeze that you always seem to enjoy, before doing as you’ve asked, promising to find the jigsaw board in the garage so you and Jack can start the newest one. 
“Did you miss him?” he hears Jack asks inexplicably. 
“Who, dad?” Aaron watches you from the door that leads into the garage. He can only see your hands from this angle, your left one landing on Jack’s shoulder for a small squeeze. “I missed him so much you couldn’t believe it.” 
“Thank you for the cookie.” 
“You’re welcome! I missed you too, you know? I have to make up for all my lost time being your big sister. Here, you can hide this one in your pocket, if you want. Just don’t forget it’s there.” 
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spaghettiposts · 8 months ago
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5 times you slept in places you shouldn’t have + the 1 time Wanda dragged you with her
Wanda Maximoff x Spider!reader
Summary: You’ve always had trouble sleeping, and Wanda’s always been there to see it.
Warnings: fluff, slight angst, poor readers not doing so well in the sleep department.
Word count: 10.7k (I am so sorry)
A/n: I’ve always wanted to try this troupe I’m very excited with how this turned out. Took me literal months (started in march) anyways!! Reblogs or no more Wanda 🫵 /j happy reading!!
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The couch
Sleeping had never been your thing, but you could sleep through it all when it was. You were never a heavy sleeper, in fact, a light sleeper. Just the slightest of noises were enough to have your body ringing and if you refused to comply your very friendly spider-sense would have no problem in senselessly jolting you awake till you’d arrive half stumbling into a nearby crime scene.
Your spider senses only worsened to the point where sleeping was becoming harder to do and at some point you stopped trying altogether. Night after night you’d stare aimlessly at the ceiling above you, just, waiting for the prickling sensation to eat at your flesh until you couldn’t handle the needles seeping through your skin. The lack of sleep and the cruel anticipation were eating at you, and you were starting to grow desperate.
Over dinner you complained about it to Steve one Friday night when all the Avengers took time off for some one-on-one time (despite not being an official member you graciously accepted the invitation), he noticed your sluggish behavior and recommended you avoid living near the danger until you could learn to control your powers better. His reasoning being; “If you’re not near a crime scene, your senses won’t have anything to wake you for, that way you’ll receive the proper rest you require”.
The strangest part out of all of it was; his advice worked. At the compound, you slept like a baby, in your apartment in New York? Not so much. You were very appreciative of the man, and he was even kind enough to offer you a room which you accepted immediately. 
One person who had been initially excited about your move-in was Wanda. You were lucky enough to consider Wanda one of your closest friends aside from Peter. She was absolutely brilliant and you both got along well. Similar to an unfinished puzzle piece she was the last puzzle you didn’t even know you were missing. She needed company, and you were glad to provide it. 
You didn’t visit often, but with this newfound arrangement, you would be. Wanda didn’t know if the idea of spending more time with you or potentially sleeping one room away from you excited her more. Either way, the thought of you being a door down had her cheeks flushing and Natasha’s lips curling into a knowing smirk.
So yes, Wanda was excited about your temporary stay. 
That was until she realized how annoying of a sleeper you could be. No, you didn’t snore, nor drool in your sleep. 
Your problem wasn’t any of those. And honestly, Wanda wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for a late-night last-minute grocery run. Earlier that morning she had promised the team she’d cook her famous paprikash for tomorrow and had miscalculated exactly how many ingredients were in stock. 
As Wanda stepped out of the elevator, she shifted her weight to better handle the bags, struggling only slightly before releasing them onto the counter with a sigh of relief. With a flick of her wrist, the lights turned on, and to her surprise; you were there too. Not in the kitchen but sprawled out on the couch where soft snores were leaving your lips. 
‘Huh’
Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, chuckling to herself. You looked like a starfish and your attire was… well, certainly something. You were completely knocked out beneath your Spider-Man suit and–– were those sweatpants? She guessed you must have been swinging through the city on patrol again. As for how sweatpants ended up on you, a mystery. 
You still had your mask on, and before Wanda could give it much thought she was already walking in your direction, step by step, until she was kneeling beside the couch. Carefully, her fingers reached out, slowly lifting the edges of your mask. Just as she was about to peel it out, you stirred beneath her touch, causing her to still.
“Wanda?” You whispered hoarsely, elbows lifting to get a better look at your surroundings but Wanda was quick to push you back down.
“Relax, you fell asleep in your suit again.” Wanda shushed you, and you hummed, not really fighting it, settling back into the couch to give her more control. She gently pried off the rest of the mask before placing it on the coffee table. 
Leaning down she ran her hand towards your hair, pushing away strands from your eye and you grumbled sleepily. 
The witch chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before straightening herself up again. “There, you can sleep now.” 
“You’re the best.” You mumbled as she walked away, taking a deep breath, and burying your face back into the cushions. 
From the kitchen Wanda smiled fondly, a blush tinting her cheeks as she unpacked the groceries; moving quietly to not wake you. You’re all she thinks about as she organizes things, glancing in your direction every so often. 
And you find yourself doing the same, seeing her in your dreams, and sleeping with an even bigger smile than before. 
2. Tony’s desk 
The compound is surprisingly quiet the next day, considering Tony was paying a visit Wanda would’ve assumed exactly the opposite in his company. But there were no out-of-the-ordinary noises, just the occasional banging of his hammer and welding machine. 
Overall it was pretty peaceful and the weather was just beautiful, a perfect blend of sunny but not insufferably so, a sight that would go well with some lunch. Naturally, you’re the first person that comes to mind that Wanda thinks to ask. 
Yet, a problem arises when Wanda can’t seem to find you anywhere. You’re not in your usual spots, including the bean bag chair in the movie room, or the outside bench next to the pond. 
Noticing Wanda’s dejected demeanor, Natasha has enough of it after all the aimless pacing. The assassin suggests that you might be downstairs in Tony’s lab, and Wanda’s eyes light up the next second. A brilliant suggestion indeed, after all, he was your mentor. 
Unsurprisingly, Wanda finds you exactly where Nat said you’d be. Hunched over, asleep on one of Tony’s desks, snoring ever so softly. Next to you were your web shooters—or pieces of them. 
The sight would’ve normally made Wanda smile if it weren’t for your uncomfortable position. Any more time spent like that and you’d surely be retired before 40 with chronic back pain. Previously, you had told Wanda not to worry about it, mumbling on about how you spiders could sleep anywhere.
Wanda didn’t believe it for one second, knowing you immediately had to pop a few pills to relieve the pain in your spine. As much as you were a superhero, you weren’t immortal, humanity never left you—something Wanda had to remind you of whenever you pushed yourself to a certain extent. 
Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, Wanda removed the gears from underneath your arms, carefully placing them aside, mindful not to ruin the process you had sorted out. 
Placing the items aside, you sigh on the table, stirring softly, but you remain blissfully unaware. A gentle smile curls on Wanda’s lips as she watches you, her soft palm coming to stroke your back. 
That was enough to jolt you awake, snapping up with wide eyes, and grabbing the nearest screwdriver to threaten whoever was there. Your posture was contrary to intimidating, and Wanda couldn’t help but laugh, lifting her hands in mock surrender. 
“Please have mercy.” She teased with a playful grin, using her finger to push back the ‘weapon’. 
You blinked confusingly, glancing down at the item in your hand before chuckling. “Consider yourself lucky it wasn’t Thor’s hammer I picked up.” You quipped, placing the tool down and stretching your arms above your head. 
And Wanda sighed, watching you struggle to get that knot out. Standing up from her chair she came to your aid, massaging at your shoulders and back. You sighed in relief, leaning back into her touch as she worked her magic.
She really did have magical fingers. 
“You really have to stop resting in places that’ll give you backaches.” Wanda chides, hands sliding underneath your shirt for better access, sending a shiver down both of you.
“If I stop then how will I get more of those delightful massages from you?” You murmured with closed eyes, completely drunk off the feeling of Wanda’s warm hands on you. “It’s what I love most about you.” 
Wanda tensed, flattening her palms on your back, before continuing with trembling fingers to not raise suspicion. “Is that all?” She retorted, voice low. 
You posed a thoughtful expression, letting out a hum as you leaned back. “Also for the delectable cooking, so, two reasons.” You teased, holding up two fingers. Wanda scoffed, slapping the back of your head and removing herself the same second. You giggled mischievously, trying to get her to come back. 
Swiveling your chair around, you reached out for her and effectively trapped her between your legs, and Wanda rolled her eyes, ignoring how the position made her feel things. 
“So I’m just a housewife to you then?” She prodded, tilting her head in a way she knew would have you stumbling. 
You shook your head, gently uncrossing her arms and taking her hands between yours.
“You’re more than that to me Wanda…” Standing up you brushed the strands of hair away from her eyes, leaning in close enough to feel Wanda’s breath hitch and you smirked; whispering. 
“You're my housekeeper.” 
Approximately 0.5 seconds was what it took for Wanda to gasp and shove you back towards your desk, and you let out a hearty laugh. 
“See if I ever cook for you again.”
Her voice means to come out stern but you completely ignore it, thinking how adorable she looks with arms crossed and an almost annoyed pout on her face. It’s your arms that wrap around her that make her break, bringing her into a hug and making her cheeks flush again.
“I’m simply teasing witchy, you know I love you, all of you.” The words slide out easily from your lips as you lean down to press a tender kiss to her head and Wanda looks surprised, but then you quickly redirect your attention to the basket with a cheesy grin and Wanda stumbled. “Now how about we go enjoy that picnic then?” 
Your steps are quick as you grab the basket, ignoring her piercing gaze.
And with how unaffectedly you move, Wanda wonders if you could possibly love her differently in the first place.
3. In a tangle of webs + Peter
Some nights were harder than others for a mind reader. It wasn’t an uncommon fate for any Avenger either, everyone had their own issues and Wanda had just been so lucky to view all of them. If she had the choice she’d never choose to see them but if Wanda had learned something from all her years; nightmares were loud.
Loud enough to startle people from their subconscious, and loud enough to provoke detailed images of their clouded lives into replaying scenes in her mind. A horror Wanda didn’t yet have the strength to ignore. 
It didn’t help that most nights, they had them. 
Empty walls stared back at Wanda’s dimmed green eyes. Her hands firmly wrapped around her head—in a fashion of both comfort and control, trying to ease the pulsing, luring her into a state of ease just to slip into someone’s mind again. She wanted to stop the feeling and visions but couldn’t. 
After twenty more minutes of hopeless starring, the memories grew weaker. 
Still, her mind remained trapped in what she had managed to see. Deciding that sleep wasn’t going to help Wanda groggily stood forward, trudging down the stairs to grab a glass of water in the common room, maybe some chamomile tea. 
Part of her heart sought company, and if given the courage she’d knock on your door and ask for it. But this time, for once the universe seemed to be on her side when her eyes landed on you.
—with Peter. Laying in a tangle of limbs, and webs. Not exactly the conscious company she was hoping for…
Despite your clustered position on the floor you both seemed at peace. You were both fast asleep and for just a second her heart clenched with envy before simmering into a soft sense of affection. How was it that you could be so cute without even trying? 
Slow droplets poured from the facet and into her cup as she took in the sight, forgetting why she was even there in the first place. But then her eyes wandered over to the calendar, right, Friday. 
She felt silly not noticing sooner. Had she really been so caught up in her head that she didn’t notice what day it was? 
The unfinished Lego Razor Crest propped on the table should have given it away. 
Fridays were ‘Fundays’. 
Wanda thought it was stupid, which was probably why she wasn’t invited to the events. Not that she minded, considering all you ever did was build legos with Peter and occasionally talk about girls—and why would Wanda want to hear that purposely? 
She knew she had no right to feel jealous, it wasn’t wrong for you to think about other girls. But did you have to be so damn obvious about it? Your mind was a fortress when it came to penetrating your thoughts, it so rarely happened, but when it did she caught glimpses of the girl who was (annoyingly) always on your mind.
The girl with green eyes. 
Too focused on figuring out who that girl was again, Wanda lost track of how much water she really needed when the cup began to overfill. 
“Shit.” Wanda hissed, turning off the tap before the water could spill further. “Gross…” she grumbled, scrunching her nose as she dabbled at the wet spot on her sweater.
That was enough water for the night.  
Briefly, before she leaves, Wanda considers waking you up again. Maybe coax you into a proper bed this time around, but before she can make up her mind Peter’s bursting awake, looking panicked. His widened eyes meet Wanda’s equally alarmed ones and he sucks in a breath. 
“Oh, sorry… I thought…burglar.” He stammers, scratching the back of his head, albeit confused. “What time is it?” 
Glancing towards the oven, Wanda squints. “Late, it’s 3 AM.” She replies and Peter grunts, mumbling about how it’s way past his bedtime. 
Amid his movements to stand up, your head slips from his grasp, colliding with the foot of the table with a heavy thud and he stumbles back. Wanda gasps, shooting Peter a glare, (who doesn’t really register it in his state of distortion) before she rushes to aid you. 
“What the fuck…” You mumble groggily, hissing at the stinging coming from the back of your head, slowly lifting yourself up to find a concerned Wanda helping you sit. “Wanda?” Now you were really confused but nevertheless allowed her to move you. 
The room was cold, chills rushing through your body in the absence of warmth, but the soft touch of warm hands felt incredible against your skin. Not being able to help yourself you leaned into her touch, noticing the way Wanda’s breath hitched.
God, she was so cute. 
Wanda swallows dryly and you think you might’ve said that out loud, judging by the way her fingers tremble and she’s turning away a blushing mess. But you don’t dwell on it as she continues to rub the back of your head to ease the pain.
“Are you okay dorogoy?” She coos and you nod wryly, her face contorting into one of mellows but neither of you says anything. Instead, you will your eyes to focus on her own, gazing into the depths of the forests that haunt your heart, and you have no clue why.
Sighing, she redirects her attention, eyes flickering between the both of you who are lost in thought. Part of her feels it’s from exhaustion but there’s something else written on your face that has her curiosity peaking. 
“Why aren’t you in bed? Both of you, it’s late.” She chides gently, and you flinch. 
“We got caught up with…” Peter starts to explain, motioning towards the Lego set and his demeanor avoidant. “that.” 
Wanda notices his shaken tone and frowns. It’s clear she doesn’t fully believe him and she opens her mouth to indulge him further but you squeeze her hand, pursing your lips to ask her to drop it. Her brows furrow in silent question, eyes glinting with whirlwinds of misunderstanding and hurt, but you’re too tired to answer any. 
Instead, you give her a reassuring smile. 
Peter had a rough time yesterday, that’s all, little witch, You whisper into her mind, seeing Wanda’s eyes turn a shade of red before returning back to you, accepting the response with a hesitant nod. 
“You really should get to bed Y/n…” Wanda tells you, rising to her feet and offering you her hand in the process. “You too Peter.” 
Peter nodded in agreement almost instantly, not wanting to stay any longer in his state of lethargy. Wanda makes a mental note to speak to Tony about decreasing his work hours. 
However, in contrast to Peter’s compliance, you deny her suggestion with a shake of your head. 
“S’too far.” You mutter under your breath, tugging webs to the corners of each room to create a hammock so naturally as if you had done it a thousand times. Which you probably have. 
For a moment Wanda looked amazed, marveling at your abilities to manipulate and create whatever you needed with just webbed fluids. But then you were snoring soundly on the makeshift bed—hammock—oblivious to the concerns you had stirred up and Wanda realized that wasn’t the point. 
When she turned to Peter for help, the younger boy scratched the back of his head nervously, shrugging his shoulders and giving an apologetic look. 
Seeing as there was nothing else she could do, nor did she wish to wake you again for the second time tonight, a sigh escaped Wanda’s lips. Red tendrils wrapped around a blanket, pulling it closer until it encompassed your body completely. She felt the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, but with Peter in the room, she held back to avoid any awkwardness 
Your lips curled into a soft smile, and Wanda returned it before turning on her heels to guide the other spider into bed. 
At least this one listens. The thought came bitterly, causing Wanda to grimace. 
“I honestly don’t understand why she keeps doing this when she has a perfectly good mattress.” Wanda sighs deeply, her voice laced with exhaustion as she walks up the steps. 
Peter blinks, giving another helpless shrug, gripping onto the rail for dear life. “I think it’s just a spider thing, sleep is anywhere you make it.” 
“But you sleep in your bed every night.” She points out, shivering at the sudden temperature. 
The air is turning colder and Wanda wonders if the singular blanket she gave you would be enough. She’s tugging at her sleeves when Peter interrupts her thoughts. 
“That is true…” A yawn cut through the younger boy's speech as he approached his door, looking dangerously close to passing out. “But I don't have problems with sleeping alone.” 
Wanda furrows her brows as the words register. Alone? You can’t sleep because you feel alone? But before she could pry further Peter was leaning against the wooden frame, fast asleep. And Wanda didn’t have it in her to ask anymore. 
Once she had successfully tucked in Peter, she closed the door gently, never once did you leave her mind. Leaning against the door, Wanda tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, her mind caught in thought but one remained a constant. 
Spiders really can sleep anywhere. 
4. Staircases 
Tired was an understatement, Wanda was spent. Completely and utterly exasperated by your behavior. There was an outstanding record for the amounts of migraines you’ve given her this month, knocking Pietro off the scoreboard by two. 
She was starting to feel annoyed and rightfully so as she stared at the crowd with a sour expression on her face. For the fourth time in a month, you were nowhere to be found and it was your party. 
Before Christmas, it was a tradition in the compound to throw a Gala in honor of the friendly neighborhood spiders who had worked overtime to keep New Yorkers safe for the holidays and throughout the year. 
More so an excuse for Tony to itch that insatiable party nerve of his before the big Christmas one. 
Of course, this gala was no exception to a roaring crowd. The dance floor was packed with sweaty people grinding on one another and Wanda swears she could see even Bruce getting into the groove of it. At the bar, only Natasha remained with a couple of straying men. So where were you?
A completely plastered Tony walked past the witch, stumbling as he did so and fiddling with his pants. Immediately Wanda grasped on his suit before he could get too far, enticing a yelp when she tugged the man to a secluded corner. 
“Tony, where's Y/n?” Wanda asked through gritted teeth. She didn’t know why—call it intuition—but for some reason, she felt your disappearance had something to do with him.
Tony scrunched his face, glancing over her shoulder with urgency and shouting back louder. “Where’s the restroom? That’s what I’m trying to figure out Maximoff, I’m pissing myself here!”
“Y/n, Tony, Y/n.” Wanda says exasperatedly.  
Tony's mouth forms an ‘oh’ as the realization dawns on him before he’s giggling like a schoolgirl which only heightens Wanda’s worries. 
“Ah, Y/n, funny story actually—”
It was not a funny story, and hearing the end of it had Wanda feeling even more upset and aggravated at the man. 
She didn’t know whether to be more angry at the fact you “consented” to that stupid dare in the first place or Tony coming up with the bright idea to launch you midair while intoxicated in his death trap tin suit. 
Which is how Wanda found you, through Tony’s utter stupidity and your sleepiness. Much to her relief, you weren’t dangling from a ledge or on top of the Empire State Building; instead, cozied up on the staircase with a beer bottle in hand threatening to fall off at any given moment. Tony’s red helmet sat snuggly on your head, leaning against the wall. 
Wanda huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes and approaching swiftly to wake you. Her hand collided with the back of your neck, sparing you absolutely no mercy as you sputtered awake. 
“Ouch,” You groaned, blinking dazedly beneath the helmet as all your senses came back to you, along with a searing headache. 
You grimaced at the sight of the bottle in your hand, setting it aside as if it could burn you with one single touch. 
That explains the headache.
“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.” Came that voice you knew all too well. You swore you could feel the hairs on your body standing as you slowly turned to see, shivering at the goosebumps, and being met with the sight of a very displeased Wanda. 
Her arms folded against her chest, head tilted at just the right angle to make you scared shitless. Still, the slight furrow to her brows and teary glimmer in her eyes had you thinking she wasn’t entirely angry, just, upset—sad. 
And maybe if your mind wasn’t so foggy, you would’ve taken it into account, and taken her into your arms. 
“Wanda…?” You murmured, attempting to feign innocence as if she wasn’t glaring daggers into your skull. “Oh! Wanda!” You exclaimed, mustering a very nervous chuckle. 
As if the helmet could sense your distress it decided that opening would be the best option and smiled sheepishly. Wanda raised an unimpressed brow, green darkened eyes digging into your soul and you sighed in defeat. Not exactly the happy welcome you expected.
Worth a shot.
“Don’t ‘Oh Wanda’ me! Seriously? Sleeping at a Gala!?” She hissed, and you stiffened, feeling the need to back up. “And on the stairs of all places, do you know how much of a hazard that is?”
You scoffed disbelievingly, feeling the need to defend yourself.  “Come on Wanda, we both know Tony’s parties—“ You cut off your speech, putting your fingers up in quotation marks to quote her.  “Sorry, ‘Galas’ are anything but formal.”
Then you’re pointing at the rousing crowd above you who you can hear yelling through muffled walls ‘Chug! Chug! Chug!’ and give Wanda a pointed look, who then rolls her eyes again.
“That’s not the point Y/n. It’s your party.” 
It’s Wanda’s diminished expression that has you sobering up instantly. Her tightened eyes stared back at your own, and you hated the guilt tugging at your chest. In the worst of states, you wouldn’t want her looking at you like that, not when you’ve seen her look at you better. It was selfish, but was it? To wish to see her smile again? You didn’t know, but it was worth more than whatever goddamn party—gala they threw at you. 
With a new mindset in mind, believing you’d have more fun with Wanda than without, you dusted yourself off, properly taking the helmet off this time. You carried it under one arm and offered the other. Wanda looked at you quizzically at the sudden change but you didn’t let that faze you, taking the initiative to wrap your arm around her own. 
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you just wanted to, so you did, leaning over to plant a short kiss on her cheek and Wanda lost all train of thought then and there. 
“You’re right, I’m sorry–I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair and Wanda gives you a look of sympathy.
She squeezes your arm with her other hand, shaking her head. Her tone is soft as she rubs a comforting hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you Y/n…we all have our rough patches. Just, let me be there for you. You don’t have to hide away.”
 You suck your teeth, the urge to disagree coming in strongly but you resign, feeling embarrassed under her gaze and your confidence ends short-lived. 
Pursing your lips, your eyes drift downwards to your arms, not really sure what to do next. Noticing your struggle, Wanda takes pity on you and decides to drop the subject for another day, softly tugging on your forearm as she speaks. 
“Let’s dance?”
“Yes please.” You groan, barely finishing your sentence before Wanda leads you up the stairs and you almost stumble. Grumbling to yourself as you straighten up, you level Wanda a look in caution. “Just be warned, I can’t really tell the difference between my left and right foot right now.”
“It’s okay, you were never much of a good dancer anyway.” She hums teasingly, failing miserably at hiding her smirk.
You let out a gasp, feigning mock offense as you raise a hand to your heart, wounded. “Geez Maximoff, you know, typically you’re supposed to woo your dancing partner, not crush their hopes and spirits.”
The witch scoffs, rolling her eyes. Once you’re off the stairs and stable enough, she makes no point in waiting for you or giving you any answer as she walks through the bustling crowd and you quickly rush to catch up with her.
“Wow! And now you’re ignoring me!” You yell over the noise, a pout adorned on your lips. “And leaving me?! Wanda I must say, I’m not quite enjoying these new colors on you. What happened to manners–?”
You’re cut off abruptly by a sudden tug to your arm by Wanda, who’s pulling you to the side and you grin. She has two cups of what you assume is tropical punch in her hand and hands one to you. Lowering your nose, you smell the drink to check if it’s spiked. Wanda gives you an unimpressed look, and you think she looks hot when she’s annoyed with you.
Suddenly she’s slapping your shoulder with a burning pink tint on her cheeks, completely exasperated as she replies “My god, do you have an off switch?”
You shine a toothy smile, leaning against the wall for support as you bring the cup to your lips, a familiar mischievous glint in your eyes that has Wanda regretting saying anything. 
You cautiously lean into the space, whispering for only her to hear, “No, but I do have a couple of ideas on how to keep me quiet.”
To say it comes out more suggestive than you intended was an understatement. But Wanda doesn’t let that deter her, doubling down.
“Oh really?” Her head tilts, quirking an amused brow and you clear your throat to regain yourself.
The air becomes a little thicker than before and no amount of alcohol can save you from the blood pounding in your ears. The space between you has become thinner to the point where you can feel her breath on your lips and you pretend the close proximity holds no effect on you but your trembling fingers say otherwise. 
“Mhm, two words,” You murmur affectedly, and Wanda swallows. Your mind is clouded by all that is her so you speak slowly, feeling your throat dry. “Duck Tape.”
“One of these days, I’m gonna throw you out of the building.” Wanda huffs as you snicker, crossing her arms as she tries to fix her hair. 
Unable to help it, you tentatively reach your hand out, waiting for Wanda to pull away. When she makes no move, you carefully brush the strands away from her face, the warmth of your touch sending a shiver down her spine. 
Pulling away, you meet her hazy gaze and you swallow wryly, trembling. Giving her a lopsided grin as you stumble back, equally as affected. You really have to stop doing that. 
“Jokes on you, I’ve already done that tonight.” Comes your attempt to clear the air, resulting in another cross expression from the witch and you smile sheepishly.
“Y/n.”
Sucking your lips into your mouth, you nod. You raise a finger as you take one last sip from your cup, placing it on the table as you grab her hand again. “Right, sorry, dancing.”
Dragging her towards the dance floor, you spared one last look. This time finding pure adoration shining through her features as she stared at you almost…lovingly before she rolled her eyes. A look you preferred to see instead. Even if it had your brain short-circuiting.
A look that thankfully carried on when she found you half crashed into the Christmas tree after Tony had asked you to put up decorations, almost fast asleep.
“You’re an idiot.” Wanda sighed with a slight curl to her lips and you took that as a silent victory. She shook her head as she carried you down the hallway with her magic. 
“Yeah, I know…” You mumbled, still grinning which was quickly wiped as she let go of the magic carrying you. “Hey!”
Wanda squeaks as you reach out to grab her, running away the next second and you quickly follow with the promise that you’ll catch her, laughter echoing through the corridors as you chase each other.
5. Pillow Forts
Construction wasn’t exactly your forte unless it involved miniature bricks with instruction manuals. Aside from that, it was very obvious that Peter was the more resourceful spider as Steve liked to put it. You knew the man meant well when he said it and your ego completely shattered but despite the mental bruise, you never made a move to practice. 
It wasn’t like stopping trains or stringing a boat back together required much engineering when you had webs stickier than epoxy. 
And now, veins popping, sunk to your knees, you deeply regretted that decision. You wanted to strangle Peter, you envied his master builder abilities. The jumble of pillows on the floor mocking you with a stare that you could only describe as insulting if pillows could…stare. 
It was pathetic really, no, extremely pathetic and sad. Who has trouble building a pillow fort?! What was supposed to be a simple project, was the newfound bane of your existence. No matter how you positioned them, they tumbled. Limiting yourself to building by web fluid was becoming a choice to regret too. It made sense, every superhero grows dependent on their powers, it’s only natural, but this time you were determined to build something without your abilities. 
Glancing over at the clock, it read a little past nine—bordering on lines of ten- you bit the inside of your cheek, figuring you probably had a couple of minutes before Wanda’s arrival. 
Huffing, you returned your attention to the pillows and took them in your arms once more. This time with determination in your eyes and the thought of who you were building this for, remnant in your head and heart. 
As you stood back to admire your finished work, you surprised yourself. It wasn’t perfect and some pillows were more crooked than others but it was comfortable. Just as you had envisioned—from Pinterest boards.
It almost looked just as good as the ones Wanda had built for you after long missions and you wished you had spent less time staring at her and more time focusing on how she was arranging the blankets.
But the fortress only became better when you clicked on the tiny remote, turning on the fairy lights that hugged the curves of the pillows, bringing it all together in a bright vibrant glow and you smiled to yourself as the lights glimmered, imagining how happy Wanda would be. 
Your eyes returned to the clock and immediately widened next. “Shit!” You gasped, rushing upstairs to pick out the main attraction, silently scolding yourself for forgetting in the first place; Sitcoms. 
You grumbled to yourself as you dug through the drawer at the multitudes of never-ending options. Wanda had always preferred to watch sitcoms on a VHS tape, although the compound had access to all streaming services she claimed it didn’t feel the same. Truth be told, you didn’t understand why they were in your room in the first place but you assumed it had to do with the fact that Wanda always left them, tucked neatly in her nightstand before she curled underneath the covers with you.
You paused. 
Her nightstand? 
Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked across the room, realizing that there were a lot of things she left behind. Ranging from articles of clothing to a spare toothbrush in your bedroom and since when did you get decorative pillows? And why were there so many?  
You shrugged the thought off, assuming she was just really forgetful, besides it wasn’t like you were usually sleeping here anyway. You continued to dig through the classics until your eyes landed on the familiar I Love Lucy cover. 
Bingo
Smiling to yourself, you walked downstairs with the tape pocketed. Now you just had to be patient and wait a few until Wanda arrived from the hanger—
“Y/n?” Your heart startles and you're clutching your chest, turning to scold whoever scared you before the words die in your throat as you take in her appearance.
You suck in a deep breath because you feel as if all the air in your lungs has been taken.
She was breathtaking without even trying. Wet strands of hair clung to her face as she stared at you incredulously, eyes flickering between you and the fortress. Clad in nothing but a loose graphic t-shirt (that you briefly recognized as your own), and shorts that were making you dizzy. 
You cursed yourself mentally, shaking yourself out of any inappropriate thoughts. She’s your best friend for God's sake!
“Surprise?” That is what you say with a weak smile and a much higher pitch than intended. Keep it subtle. Things weren’t going entirely as planned, however, you could improvise. 
Wanda stares back amused, an unfamiliar glint in her eyes pooling, taking a step closer until her hand is dragging against your forearm. “Dorogoy, what’s all this?”
“I built it for us, I figured maybe you’d like to unwind…I know you had it pretty hard today and you’ve looked stressed all week.” You mumbled meekly, shifting against her touch. Pull it together man.
“Really?” She picked up her head, looking at you adoringly–that you missed from the bundle of nerves wracking at your mind, mistaking the look for one of contempt. 
But you pushed forward, believing it was a nice gesture. And even though all the logical parts of your brain tell you not to, you slowly untangle yourself from the witch anyway, missing the hurt that crosses her expression. 
You didn’t know why you were so nervous today. 
“Yeah, I picked out your favorite too.” You say half breathlessly, reaching for the tape in your pocket to show her. “Snacks and sitcoms, and more if you need anything. I’ve just gotta set up the TV before this and all since you came back a little earlier than I expected.” 
During your rant, you walked towards the television to find the player. Fiddling with it to distract yourself from the rising goosebumps picking at your body, but Wanda didn’t need to know that. With your back turned you failed to notice the scene unfolding behind you. Her eyes were slightly watered and she lingered by your side. Part of her, hesitant to reach out so instead she let them fall to her side, fiddling with her sleeves in a manner of comfort. 
Rummaging through the cabinets you exclaimed as you found it, turning forward with the device held to your chest, completely oblivious of the inner turmoil you’ve caused inside the other girl.
“Maybe even grab some popcorn unless you’d prefer chips? Seriously Wanda, whatever you want, I just want you to feel better—”
“Y/n?” She cuts in.
“Yeah?”
“Hug me, please?” She whispers, her voice cracking with desperation, her eyes unable to meet yours, ashamed of the vulnerability, and waves of regret crawl over you for letting go of her in the first place. “I’m sorry, I just really missed you and things went pretty badly- I just–” 
It’s you who cuts her off next, pulling her into your embrace, feeling her tremble against you. Wanda chokes back a sob, and tears blur your vision as you hold her tightly. 
You whisper words of comfort, murmuring, ‘I know, it’s okay, I know.’, while cradling her head against your chest. Despite being only slightly taller than her, you fit together perfectly, and you rest your head atop her chin. She exhales softly, her breath hitching with each shudder as she inhales your scent. Her arms move from your chest to return the embrace, burrowing herself into your chest and clinging to you as if you’d vanish again.
After a few moments, Wanda’s breathing begins to even, but she shows no signs of releasing you anytime soon. You gently squeeze her waist, hoping to draw her attention. Pressing a kiss to her hair, murmuring softly as you ask:
“Is…Is there anything else you need?”
Sighing, Wanda shakes her head, nuzzling further into you. “Just you, I don’t need anything else.”
“Okay.” You mumble into her hair, your fingers tracing gentle patterns across her back. For a moment, you stand there, bodies swaying softly as you hold each other. Selfishly allowing yourself to soak in the feeling of having her so close to you. “But if you even dare to grab my Cool Ranch Doritos just know I told you—”
Wanda groans, and you stifle your laughter when her hand playfully smacks your shoulder. You can almost feel her eyes rolling.
“Shut up, I don’t even like those.”
“Yeah right! I can still see the crumbs on your chin from last time!” You laugh in disbelief and Wanda pulls back gaping, completely affronted.
“That was one time!”
“One time too many! It was a party-sized bag—that I was planning on saving by the way, and you finished it!”
“Oh my god, just get in the fort before I change my mind and leave.”
It doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you in the fort when soft hands lace into your own, dragging you inside. You’re more than willing to follow her anywhere.
She’s quick to push you into the pile of pillows, laughing when you squeal from the sudden impact. Shuffling underneath your arm and making herself comfortable against you, she turns to look up at you with a smile and you quickly turn into a flustered mess. With how she’s looking at you, you can’t help but feel that she’s doing it on purpose. 
Using her magic Wanda’s able to connect the TV from your position, not once disconnecting your bodies. She smiles in success when it works, sinking further into the comforting atmosphere as the show plays softly in the background. 
As the lights glimmer between your bodies, Wanda finds herself more captivated by you than the show itself. How could she not? After you’ve devoted so much of your time just to make her smile. A pang of gratitude hits Wanda’s heart, mingling with a feeling she knows all too well—a feeling she had tried to pass off as something smaller than love. But the more she spent with you, the more she realized it was pointless to deny.
Part of her hoped you’d choose to stay, to stay with her, because she isn’t sure how she’d be without you. 
Wanda knew she was letting it get into her head—but then you look at her, tenderly, as if she was the only girl in the world and fantasies resurfaced along with uncontrollable feelings that felt stronger than herself. Fantasies of one day being together, like this forever. Not just one singular moment but for the rest of your lives. 
The feeling of your body vibrating with laughter quickly snaps her out of her senses and she turns to look at the screen where a joke plays out. And god is that feeling one of her favorites. What drives her crazy is how you don’t seem to even notice how affected you make her. The way your hands would gradually grow bolder, slowly slipping past the hem of her shirt and grazing the skin underneath, leaving a trail of goosebumps in your wake. And how, whether consciously or not, you’d tighten your grip around her, pulling her in closer in a possessively deliberate way that had her biting her lip. 
Was it really selfish to want more? 
The thought swirled in Wanda’s mind heavily, but unbeknownst to her, it was in yours too. 
Wanda yearned for more than fleeting touches that led to nowhere. She craved more than unspoken vows you carried in silence, being too afraid to say anything, mortified by the thought of ruining what you had—unknowingly missing how you could have better.
Wanda Maximoff wanted to be yours.
The thought awoke her with a slight jolt and it had taken her a second to comprehend that she was asleep, the TV long since turned off then. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she recalled her vivid imaginations, realizing what had been originally just a second of resting her eyes had resulted in a 3-hour nap. 
But with the thoughts still fresh in her mind, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care. She was on a mission.
“Y/n?” Her voice calls out slightly hoarse, breaking the silence. But the silence remains unbroken and Wanda frowns, removing her head from your shoulder to look at you. 
You’re sound asleep next to her, a faint trail of drool lining your lips. Bags are evident below your eyelids, and Wanda lets out a small ‘oh’. You had fallen asleep too.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Wanda shook her head softly, an amused smile playing on her lips as she admired you. Deciding that confessions could wait for another time, she leaned back and tugged a blanket forward, encasing you both again into that warm atmosphere. 
Recalling words you had said before: “A little back pain is worth the sleep”. She couldn’t help but agree more when it was next to you.
Together
There were two things you loved more than being Spider-Man in the world. 
Lightsabers, and maybe potentially Wanda. 
The latter being much more intimate than the first but you get the jist. The point was, that you liked Wanda. You were sure of it, with everything in your mind, body, and soul. 
So, why were you avoiding her? 
Cowardice.
Weeks had passed since that night. You still vividly remember the feeling of waking up to Wanda’s sleeping form, resting comfortably on top of you. After all, it was the best sleep you’ve had in a while.
The sight had initially startled you, but what scared you most was the normalcy of it all. The domesticity, how bright Wanda’s eyes shone in the daylight, looking at you as if you were a treasure from the depths of Atlantis. How eager she was to make you breakfast and how her touch never left yours throughout the process. 
Miles away in New York, you could still feel her. 
“Chocolate or blueberry?” Wanda asked, tilting her head to the side to look at you. 
The familiar scent of pancakes wafted through the air and you knew it was only a matter of seconds before the team came to steal them all.
Your hold remained firm on her waist as you hugged her from behind, swaying softly to the tunes of nothing. Not wanting the moment to end just yet, you remained silent, allowing yourself to bask in the peace. But Wanda had other plans, quickly squeezing at your arm to grab your attention and you rolled your eyes, amused by her impatience. 
Posing a thoughtful expression, you eyed the batter before turning to the basket of blueberries. They looked fresh, not too ripe to be sour, and not too soft to be soggy. 
“Hmmm, how good are the blueberries?” 
Wanda shrugged absentmindedly, whisking at the batter as she leaned back into you, stealing whatever warmth she could. “Pretty good, I grew them myself.” 
The mental image of Wanda in her gardening gear made you smile a little more than expected, and you hid into her shoulder, inhaling her scent. Absolutely hooked. 
“Did you?” You reply, watching as Wanda nods her head shyly and you chuckle. Unintentionally dragging your lips across her cheek as you press delicate kisses to her skin, murmuring softly in her ear, “What a talented little witch.” 
Wanda laughs, blushing as she attempts to shrug you away, not really understanding why you’re being so touchy but not opposed to it either. “Stop it.” 
Your lips tug into a lazy grin as you laugh with her, avoiding her attacks and keeping your grip firm. “It’s true Wands…you’re great at everything really. Never once have you failed to amaze me—“
“Here, try this.” That is all she says before shoving multiple berries into your mouth, distracting you before you can pay too much attention to her flustered state. 
You gasp at the sudden impact but graciously accept the blueberries into your mouth, playfully glaring at her as you chew. Her nose scrunches adorably, turning in your arms to watch you eat them, her face lighting up and offering you some more. 
Though, when you lift your hand to take them, she swats it away. Cupping your cheeks in her hands, softly stroking at your face with her thumbs, you rolled your eyes. Complying with rosy cheeks as she fed them to you.
As you held her, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, wrapped in a safe haven you’ve created. This moment was everything—a fragile glimpse into a future you desperately wanted but were too afraid to reach for.
Although neither of you seemed too keen on parting, Wanda’s hands were preoccupied with the feel of your skin underneath her own, repeating senseless patterns. That is until the oven goes off with a loud bang and you both break away bashfully. 
Before you can make a move, Wanda lets out a deep breath. Hands gently smoothing over your shirt, her touch lingering with tender care. She pats your chest softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth and affection.
“Blueberries it is.” 
You run a hand over your face as the memory washes over you, letting out a shaky breath. It shouldn’t affect you this much, and you didn’t want to read into it because that would require acceptance. 
The risk of ruining something you held so dearly hurts you more than the silence you keep. Heroes aren’t supposed to be afraid, and yet it’s all you felt in your heart at the thought of losing her. But your heart ached for more, just even the slightest glimpse into what could be. And when you closed your eyes, you could almost see it. An alluring figure stringing you along, captivating you with their lush green eyes, promising you that they’d be yours forever.
But those were dreams, not real life.
A real-life you wanted with Wanda.
You slowly sink into your thoughts, your mind both your stronghold and a labyrinth of sorrow. As you wipe the tears that blur your vision, you gaze down at the streets of New York. Despite the hour, the city remained wide awake. Citizens walked with pure radiance of confidence, towering buildings seeming so distant and away from where you sat. Did they know? Did anyone know that one of their beloved Spider-mans was capable of turning a mess so easily?
The weight of it all feels suffocating and no amount of air can prevent the tightness that clogs at your throat, heavy breaths leaving your body as you recount your errors. You were raised to believe that love was this grand, amazing thing. But now you want to scoff at everyone who fed into your hopelessness, fed into those lies. If love was so wonderful, then how come it hurt so much? 
But then, without warning your senses are ringing, and your eyes widen as a figure lands in your space with a slight stumble. The clouds of smoke that surround them make it hard for you to tell who it is and you raise your hand, ready to attack. 
And then, recognition dawns on you as the smoke settles. Your body easily relaxes and loosens the grip on your strayed mask next to you. With a trembling exhale, you lower your hand to take a moment to breathe, drawing in a deep calming breath and your lungs silently thank you.
“Hey, kid.” Tony greets, exiting his suit with a lopsided smile. One that doesn’t quite meet his eyes but you know better than to pry.
“Tony?” You furrow your brows, wanting to ask why he’s here but the bag in his hands tells you all you need to know. “Another late-night donut run?”
“Pepper thinks I should lay off the suits for a while.” He explains with a sigh, grunting as he sits down next to you, rattling the bag in his hands for emphasis. “And donuts are the only thing that both keep me busy and fulfilled. Win-win don’t you think?”
“Depends on what type of donuts you picked.” You mused with a hum. 
“That’s where you’re wrong, Long John.” He retorts with a smirk, reaching into his bag to place a donut in your hands. Patting your shoulder as he did so. “Here, for your troubles.” 
You cocked your head curiously, examining the sweet with a soft smile. “A maple bar, sweet.” 
Thanking him, you took slow soft bites, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth as you looked towards the city in thought. You felt Tony’s stare and tried your best to ignore it, not wanting pity. 
“In my entire years of living, not once have I ever seen someone looking so sad while holding a donut.” He commented, taking a bite of his own donut and you release a sigh. “It’s really depressing to look at.” 
He spoke between bites, causing you to grimace. Backing away, you studied your mentor incredulously, analyzing his facial features in the hope it’d give you a clue as to why exactly he was here. Finding nothing, but an unusual softness to his features, you raised a wary brow.
“Did you come all this way just to patronize me, Stark?” You sneered with a glare. Feeling like the donut was really just bait to lure you into a conversation. 
Which you had admittedly been postponing from both Steve and him, using the city as an excuse to step away from your problems. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with you again. 
And here he was, the tightness behind his eyes diminishing as he stared at you, carefully, with laces of soft affection instead. You weren’t sure if you liked this look.
“A little birdie—or should I say spider, told me about your troubles with our resident Maximoff and I figured it’s time you got advice from the love doctor.” His hand came to his chest, motioning to himself and you scoffed in disbelief before turning into one of disgust. “And listen, I love Pietro, but I really don’t think—“
“Pietro?! Ew, god, no.” You say hurriedly, eager to dispel those rumors. Your distaste quickly turns into irritation as you realize with an offended gasp. “Is Peter seriously going around and spreading this?! Tony what the fuck.”
“Right, witchy then.” He sucks his teeth, waving a finger your way and you shove at his shoulders with embarrassment. Not letting that deter him, he scratches his chin, posing a thoughtful expression as he begins, “Love is scary, isn’t it? You’re scared. Scared of messing things up, scared of hurting her, losing her—“
“This is really inspiring Tony.”
“Pipe down Pipsqueak I’m not finished,” He huffed, clearing his throat before returning to his speech. “The point in all this is that you’re afraid. And that’s okay, so long as you don’t let those fears hold you back. Hell I’m still scared Pepper will leave me for someone more sensible, someone who won’t constantly be putting her in danger.”
His admission doesn’t come easy, and you notice the frown and crease in his eyebrows as he says so. Releasing another breath, you think about his words, and how fear could hold someone back. Reflecting on the past days, all you notice is clear examples of how it’s done this, stopping you from chasing what you really want. Still, you shake your head, voice cracking as you admit:
“I just don't want her to get hurt, or get hurt.“
Tony blinks, looking at you with an emotion you don’t know. But in his eyes, he sees himself, speaking gently, “You’ll never know if you don’t try, Y/n.”
“Think about it.” Comes the last thing he’s to say as he stands up with a grunt. Hands dusting himself off and bending over to grab his bag, pointing to you with a reassuring grin.
The words swirl around your head like a roundabout, leading to only one conclusion and you know what you have to do. Face those fears, even if the words get stuck in your throat. Before Tony can get too far, you stand up, stammering on your words as you thank him. 
Tony nods inside his suit, propelling himself as he speaks. “Anytime, stay in school, and help Peter with his history homework will you?”
You shake your head, chuckling softly and Tony ruffles your hair, flying off with a booming “Ciao!” Leaving you alone to collect yourself, bidding him goodbye. 
Placing the last bit of the donut in your mouth, you slip on your mask. Launching yourself through the city to reach your destination, flying past buildings and deep into the wooded suburbs where you’d find the compound. 
There wasn’t a world in which you could successfully avoid Wanda, not forever at least. It was torture for yourself too these past few days, and you’d be dammed if you did it again. 
As you reached the vicinity, fear washed over you again, your heart beating rapidly the closer you approached. Tony’s words rang in your mind and you huffed, ignoring whatever your senses were telling you and letting your emotions speak louder. 
Rest could wait until later, for now, you had a witch to confront—confess to. 
You decided to take the easier route, being her window as you had down many nights prior. As you swung towards the wall, you found yourself stuck. Hanging from the rooftop, hand frozen midair as you stared at your reflection, was this really a good idea? In the middle of the night? 
It was a tranquil, beautiful night, with fresh air flowing through the trees, and the only source of light being the soft glow of the moon. Your eyes softly traced through the beauty of nature, losing yourself in the picturesque landscape. Perfect conditions for an Avenger to catch some sleep in and you quickly found yourself double thinking by her window. Anxiety crawls through you—what if she was asleep already and didn’t wanna see you? Surely you shouldn’t interfere with Wanda’s beauty sleep. Or should you—?
“Did you really come all this way to see me just to hang outside of my window like a creep?” Your heart startled at the sudden voice and you didn’t even notice when Wanda had opened the window but there she was, a crooked smile on her lips with a curious tilt to her head.
The moonlight only enhanced Wanda's beauty further, and you knew you were staring. But you couldn’t tear your gaze away, mesmerized, counting every freckle you could spot; dreaming of one day kissing each speck you could find. 
You wondered if women like Wanda inspired philosophers to write the most beautiful sayings because you’re certain if you had the intelligence you’d do the same. It’s only when Wanda cleared her throat, a small blush tinting her cheeks, that you turned away. 
You sighed to try and collect yourself, letting your previous anxieties disappear. “Well, you know how much I love hanging out with you.” You joked, grinning at the groan Wanda let out as she shook her head disapprovingly.
“Dork.”
“Maybe.” You shrugged.
“Most definitely.” She says before moving closer, touching the ridges of your mask, and your heart races when she pulls it down just the slightest. You lean eagerly against her palm without a second thought, savoring her touch. It feels as if time freezes, and you realize how intensely you’ve missed Wanda these past days.
You think Wanda feels the same with how she looks at you, hand tracing the small scar etched into your chin with a frown. Her hand shutters a bright red and you lean into it like second nature, knowing what she seeks; to feel you. Something that came often after missions back home, a reminder that you were still here, but as you opened your eyes to stare back into her own, it felt different. Dangerously close to intimate and emotions build against your throat, constricting you because you can’t handle how close you are. How close you could be to changing things. Your defenses fly up again and you’re inching away despite not being able to get far with Wanda keeping you still–so you rack your brain, trying to find something to say to ease the tension—deflect, maybe a joke? 
But any witty retort you had is quickly forgotten as Wanda hesitantly leans closer, testing the waters, and freezing you on the spot. You’re sure Wanda can hear your heart racing, but she doesn’t seem to care. It’s only when you make no motion of moving that she brings your mouths together. And you think you’ve just taken a glimpse into heaven.
It's just as sweet as you imagined and more. Her lips are soft and sweet and welcoming, easily enveloping you in all that is her, something you fall into hopelessly yet again. You want to ask why she chose now to do this, but you don’t want to part. The position is less than ideal, and sure your neck is straining but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Wanda’s the first to pull away, equally taken by surprise by her actions, a deep flush taking her the next second with a small shy smile and you feel yourself swoon. 
You hesitate as you try to speak again, find the proper words to say but Wanda stops you, taking off your mask properly and lifting herself off the frame, walking back into her room. She throws your mask aimlessly away behind her desk but you’re not paying too much attention to it.
“Why don’t you come inside for once? Catch some real sleep, on a real bed.” She suggests invitingly, throwing you a playful look over her shoulder. You let out a breathless chuckle, flipping yourself over to enter her window, and closing it behind you in one smooth motion.
Wanda doesn’t say much else as you help her un-tuck the sheets, shooting you an appreciative glance and you pause, realizing it is her from your dreams. She’s the girl. The girl you can’t escape at night. It baffles you how you didn’t see her sooner. And suddenly you understand. 
You understand why you’re always thinking of her, why even in your sleep you don’t wish to leave. It’s not just some crush you’ve been harboring, no, it’s something more intimate. And you want to say it’s love, but you want to say it better. Not when you’re both so absorbed in the moment, so you wait, because for Wanda Maximoff you’d wait for any length.
“I do sleep.” You spoke softly, ignoring how nervous her stare was making you and the stare made you believe that she already knew. You sucked in a breath, knowing if you didn’t say it now you wouldn’t say it ever, “I’d just sleep better with you.”
Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise before softening in a way that made your resolve crumble and you looked away with a clumsy smile. It feels like a silly confession to make, but unbeknownst to you, it’s enough confirmation for Wanda.
Shuffling into the sheets, you turn to meet Wanda only for her to advance on you the next second into a much more tender kiss than before. It’s soft and a reassurance that she feels the same way, her lips tasting of strawberries and love. You melt into the kiss once again, placing your hand on her wrist that holds your face in place, deepening it to convey. 
“I’ll keep you to that,” Wanda murmurs between kisses, placing one last peck on your lips before curling in closer to your body, hiding in the crook of your neck. You chuckle and wrap your arms around her. 
Her presence enveloped you instantaneously, reducing every muscle in your body into mush; a wave of relief washed over you, almost in disbelief that this was real. It was almost overwhelming, how easily you found peace in her arms. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill as you realized that this simple moment was all you had ever wanted–a night of rest with the girl you cared for most, free from all the world's problems and whatever else dared to ruin you. 
As if she could sense something was wrong, the witch shuffled closer, her lips tenderly grazing against the skin of your neck and you tensed as she pressed. Her lips lingered against your skin, repeating the process over and over until you relaxed as if to say I know, it’s okay. When her legs intertwined with yours, you didn’t resist, understanding that she needed you just as much as you needed her. Instead, you held her tighter as if she could slip away if you didn’t. 
Truly believing that this was where you were supposed to be.  
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starmapz · 1 month ago
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man's best friend - r. sukuna
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❦ biker!ryomen sukuna x biker!f!reader [non-curse au]
❦ oneshot
❝ you know those videos of people falling in love with the pet they didn't want? yeah, turns out your husband sukuna could be the star of one of them. ❞
❦ cw ; 18+ only. mdni. sexual themes. fluff! husband!sukuna. soft!sukuna. part of the love & company series of oneshots but can be read separately.
❦ words ; 1.8k.
main masterlist || love & company masterlist
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Shutting the door behind you, you kick your boots off and pad slowly into the house. “Ryo!” You call out in search of your husband, peeking into the kitchen.
He rounds the corner in only a pair of gray sweatpants, every peak and valley of his washboard abs on display. If it were any other day, you would be jumping him in a heartbeat and he knows it. So when you don’t, even as your eyes trail down his body, he approaches you suspiciously.
“Who are you n’ what did you do with my wife?” He asks, a hint of playfulness decorating his tone. He eyes your outfit, still in your riding gear aside from your boots and helmet. You haven’t taken off your leather jacket yet, which is odd.
When his gaze lands on your chest, he narrows his eyes. “You get a third tit at work today?” He asks as he realizes you have a lump hidden beneath your coat. You can’t help your giggles at his stupid joke, shaking your head. The lump shuffles beneath your coat and his eyes go wide.
“You did not,” he deadpans, searching your expression.
Oh, but you did.
“Okay listen, I know you didn’t want a pet until we got a bigger place, but hear me out!” You plead as the lump shuffles more before it finally pokes its tiny little face out from your coat.
Facing Sukuna is the tiniest, most disheveled bundle of fur he’s ever seen. The little kitten is pure black, hair sticking out in every direction and wide green eyes that take in the world as the little furball tilts its head curiously at your husband with a pathetic mewl.
“No. No way, that thing’s gotta be covered in fleas. We talked about a dog,” he shakes his head. “Where did you even find it?”
“Ryo, come on!” You pout at him with a look entirely too similar to the kitten and his glare flickers between the two of you. “I found it in the bushes outside work and my co-worker said it’d been there for a while. I couldn’t leave it!” You insist, pulling the furball gently from within your jacket to hold them tightly to your chest.
He’s probably right about the fleas, but how could you not immediately fall in love with the little kitty as it calmly abides to you holding it like a baby, chewing softly on your gloved thumb as you hold it up to Sukuna.
“We don’t even need a big place to get a cat!” You insist. The kitten stops chewing on your thumb, rounded green eyes turning to stare up at Sukuna as it mewls pleadingly. Sukuna has half a mind to wonder if the kitten can understand you because between the two of you pouting at him, he thinks you have to be conspiring specifically to get him to break.
He sighs dramatically, rubbing the crease between his brows. “Fine. But it’s your responsibility.”
And how is Sukuna ever meant to resist his beautiful wife with the way your eyes light up?
Of course, you knew from the moment you brought the bundle of soot home that Sukuna would cave. What you didn’t expect was the way their dynamic shifted.
After getting cleaned up and visiting the vet, you discovered she’s a sweet little girl and insisted on naming her Jiji, after the cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service. Your husband had more… creative name choices. Pawasaki and Yameowha were among the worst of his horrible bike-related names, but Ducati had to be the one that really took the cake for the one that made you groan the most.
… And it also happened to be the one that stuck.
“Kuna! Have you seen Cati?” At least Cati sounds close to Kitty, right? Peering into the living room, you catch a glimpse of Sukuna laid out over the couch in a black hoodie and gray sweatpants, his arms folded back behind his head and his eyes trained on the TV.
“Yeah, she’s in here,” he replies nonchalantly. Stepping into the room, you look around for her but she’s nowhere to be found. Turning to Sukuna finally, your lips purse and your heart absolutely soars at the sight of the little kitty curled right into the crook of Sukuna’s neck, almost invisible buried in his hoodie.
“Oh. My. God,” you gasp, pulling out your phone to take a photo, which quickly becomes thirty photos to Sukuna’s dismay as his smirk becomes a scowl by the fifteenth. “You two are the cutest things I’ve ever seen. This is gonna be my wallpaper.”
It doesn’t take long for the two to warm up to one another either. Ducati is like his shadow, always following right behind him even as he brushes her off. She’s constantly rubbing against his ankles and mewing for his attention. He doesn’t pay her much mind at first, but his resolve crumbles after only a few weeks.
Brushing your teeth one morning before work, Sukuna walks into the washroom in a red hoodie to grab his razor. As he slips past you, your jaw drops at the realization that Ducati’s little tail is poking out from his hood.
“No way,” you barely manage to mumble through the toothpaste and toothbrush, spitting it out and darting back to your room to grab your phone. It hardly matters that you have toothpaste on your lips still when you need a photo of this right now.
“Your camera roll must be mostly photos of her,” he chides, plugging his razor in.
“You say that like it’s a problem.”
A puff of air leaves his nose in a laugh as he watches your mirth through the mirror. Who is he to deny his wife of having a camera roll full of photos where you can barely make out where your kitten’s limbs start and end?
The day everything changed was when you woke up early enough to see their morning routine. Sukuna got up early to work out and have breakfast before work, while you would practically rush out the door, but your body had other plans today.
The sun warms your cheek as it peeks over the horizon and with a yawn you realize your alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Usually you would just flip over, but a morning with your husband sounds even better.
Slowly shuffling down the hall, you blink sleep from your eyes as you make your way into the kitchen in time to see what might be the funniest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.
Sukuna sits down at the table with a breakfast burrito on one plate and another smaller plate in his other hand. He sets it down at the chair beside him with some coffee and your jaw drops when you realize what’s on the smaller plate.
It’s Ducati’s fucking breakfast. He pulls the chair beside him out and pats it before pushing her plate to the edge of the table so that she can reach it.
“No fucking way,” you breathe out. Like a deer in the headlights, Sukuna’s eyes widen, before his expression hardens.
“What? She’s hungry,” he grunts like any of this is normal by any means and he isn’t the cheesiest cat dad on the planet. To think he was a dog person a few months ago.
You burst into laughter as his tough-guy persona crumbles. You may be his princess, but that cat is his queen.
“I need to get my phone, oh my god-”
“Don’t you dare!” He roars, but you’re already racing back to the bedroom in a flurry of giggles. Sukuna sighs, slumping back in the chair as he stares at the ceiling.
“You’re such a sucker,” you tease as you snap another dozen photos of the pair to add to your collection.
“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, holding his hand up to block the camera’s view of him as though the tattoos on his wrist don’t spell out exactly who he is.
You found out a week later that the next step from breakfast at the table is apparently coming with you on dates.
Finishing up your makeup for your beach day with your husband, you bound over to the door with your duffle bag of towels, sunglasses, and sunscreen ready to go. Sukuna, on the other hand, packed very differently.
Kneeling on the ground, Ducati’s on her side, her fluffy black tail happily swishing back and forth as Sukuna adjusts a harness on her.
“Kuna, as cute as that is, I don’t wanna lose her,” you gently scold, deciding you have to put your foot down when it comes to your cat joining you on your beach date.
“We won’t lose her,” he gruffs, scooping her up into his arms. “She has a tracker tag. It’s connected to my phone.”
You have to stifle a laugh. “Right, of course. That’s super normal. Normal people do this with their cats.”
Sukuna glowers, heat rising from his neck up to his cheeks. To think that this is the same man who cuffed you to your bed frame last night that’s now brimming with embarrassment. “She likes being outside,” he grumbles.
“I know she does but I thought the front yard would be as far as she would go,” you sigh, unable to help your smile. “Fine, Ryo. She can join us, but you better watch her like a hawk.”
“Promise, princess,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Your hickeys r’ showing, by the way.”
You shrug. “My makeup would come off in the water anyway if I tried to cover them and I know you like them,” you smirk. Something dark flashes in his eyes, his free hand that isn’t supporting Ducati in his arms reaching out to rest on your waist. His fingers tighten, his grip sinking into the plush of your skin as he pulls you into him.
“I like when people know you’re mine,” he purrs, eyes lidded. 
“That’s good, because now,” you begin, a gleam in your eye that he recognizes all too well, “people will know that I’m with the big burly biker and his tiny little kitty,” you tease with a grin as you push off of his chest, adjusting your duffle bag over your shoulder. “Come on, you big sucker. Let’s go to the beach.”
Of course, you’ve seen the videos and stories of men who didn’t want a pet later becoming said pet’s best friend, but you could never have imagined that would be your hardened and often cold husband. Especially given that when you had discussed getting a pet, he wanted a big dog like a Rottweiler or a German Shepherd.
Like many other times over the course of your life, he surprises you at every turn as you find him in the kitchen pouring himself a bowl of Cheerios with Ducati atop his shoulders. Another time, you find him doing pushups in your bedroom with the cat laying on his back, earning a raised brow. On rare occasions, he even calls both of you ‘his girls’.
Turns out, Sukuna is a cat guy. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it means you’re not Ducati’s favorite.
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main masterlist || love & company masterlist
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❦ a/n ; was feeling inspired since i adopted my cat a year ago tomorrow and couldn't help but think this would suit this sukuna really well <3 as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super super appreciated <33
❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist to be added. 18+ only, age must be visible on blog.
@toffeebrat @gojodickbig @4acoffee @billiondollarworth @qyuin
@bxnfire @jayghostedu @favvkiki
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writing & format © starmapz. art © too-many-owls. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune.
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wildestdreamsblog · 6 months ago
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Might as well be drunk in love: 2 of 3
Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)
Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.
Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: Let the darkness begin.
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GIF by sugajimin
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Part 1
Tuesday Night, Day 1
Kim Namjoon opened the door, his dimples on display as he welcomed you in the mansion for the second time that night as though he was already expecting you. He looked warm and comfortable, donning out simple white shirt and grey sweatpants instead of his usual formal clothes. A damp towel hanged on his broad shoulders; his hair still wet from the shower he obviously took.
“Welcome home, little one,” he greeted lowly, pulling your reluctant form in. If he felt the way you dug your heels on the ground, he didn’t mention. He was just elated that you were here now. He couldn’t explain the excruciating pain that went through his body almost more than an hour after he dropped you off. He was only able to manage it when Hoseok messaged him, letting him know that you would be coming home with him, and only then did he feel the pain subsided.
For the second time, you stepped foot in the grandiose place of theirs. It was a strange juxtaposition, your cautious movements against Namjoon's determined pull. Funnily, you thought it was similar to the depiction of Lucifer dragging Persephone down to hell. Walking behind you was the intimidating man, Jung Hoseok. He was carrying your bags in his hand in a relaxed manner, opposite to how he was before. The amount of clothes he personally packed were staggeringly ridiculous. It was like he packed your whole belongings with the intention for you to never set foot in your own apartment again. In his other hand was your traitor of a cat that was purring as the man carried him in his arms. It was like your cat left you for a better life.
"You must have been exhausted," Namjoon's voice broke through the quiet, drawing your attention to his warm smile. His concern softened the edges of your weariness. “The day is too long for any of us. You should get your rest.”
You eyed Hoseok, unsure of how to act when he offered you a reassuring smile. “We readied your room, little one," Hoseok's voice was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his prior demeanor. Namjoon bade you good night, his large hand cupping your cheek tenderly before letting you go. With a beckoning gesture, Hoseok motioned for you to follow him, and you fell into step beside him, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders.
He opened the room to the far end of the right wing. Similar to the aesthetic of the house, the room was equally grandiose. The bed, positioned prominently in the center of the room, commanded attention with its regal presence. It was fit for a princess, you thought, with its lavish canopy and layers of plush bedding inviting you to sink into its embrace. Every detail spoke of luxury and refinement, from the gilded accents to the soft, muted colors that suffused the room with an air of tranquility.
Any other time you would have gushed over the beauty of this room, but not this time. And not with the stress that that love potion brought you! On top of that, you were in a strange place with your CEOs who were practically strangers up at this moment! It was more than understandable that you were acting wary of these two men. They were only two of the seven, and you were already displaced by them! What more if the remaining five were to face you now?
You looked over your lashes at the man who was putting your bags down in front of what looked like a huge walk-in closet, his face void of any negative emotions but the people pleaser and the anxious child in you made you voiced out what you were thinking.
“Are you mad at me?”
Your cat, on the other hand, was now roaming freely and inspecting his new home with a purr, uncaring of the stress that you were feeling. You knew that traitor had such an expensive taste that your cat would literally sell you for a piece of chicken. You couldn’t help but notice the amount of cat toys that were kept in the corner of the room, prompting you to think that this wasn’t a spur of the moment kind of thing.
Hoseok blinked owlishly as though you asked an utterly absurd question, one that would never happen. His brows furrowed before he offered you a reassuring smile. “What brought this on?”
You sighed dramatically before plopping down on a surprisingly soft and comfortable mattress. You were even unknowingly pouting, making him want to squish your adorable cheeks in between his hands and cooed down at you. “Well, because I may or may not have ruined your lives because of that drink. But in my defense, which I think is a very good and plausible one and it may actually stand in court, it was never my intention to make you ‘fall in love’ with me and that drink was only gifted to me! Don’t you think I should be given a less harsh punishment?”
“Punishment?” Hoseok repeated to himself, his head tilted to the side as he pondered the notion. Was living with them meant to be some sort of a punishment when this was a big house and you had seven men to cater to your every whim? They would literally give you the world should you asked. “No, honey. Listen, I’m not mad at you. In fact, it’s the opposite.”
“I’m mad at you?” you asked with a hint of humor in your voice before flashing him a grin of your own. You were too adorable and funny, he gushed as he kneeled in front of you. Slowly as though gauging your reaction, he held your hands in between his, running his thumb in a soothing manner when you didn’t pull away. Hoseok couldn’t help but smile widely when he held you. It was such an exhilarating rush, he observed, one that he had never felt before.
In fact, it was an addicting feeling…one that he could not bear to lose.
“We’re not mad,” he began, his voice earnest as he looked up at you from his kneeled form on the carpeted floor. He never knelt for anyone, but for you, he would without any questions asked. “None of us are mad. This is merely a…unique conundrum. But we’ll figure it out. We always do. So don’t worry, okay?
We will take care of it.”
It was well after midnight when the five equally annoyed men strutted inside the mansion. Their faces were painted with discontent, their eyes carrying a certain weight of physical exhaustion and their movements that of strain from being physically away from you.
They were, in fact, practically gritting their teeth from the discomfort and pain.
Kim Seokjin was the first to stride into the room, the heavy oak double-doors slamming against their hinges so forcefully that even Namjoon grew concerned. He meant, for heaven’s sake, he had it custom-ordered from his favorite artist that specialized in wood carving! Anyway, it was a rare sight to see him display any negative emotion as he was always the brother that brought lightness to whatever tense situation he found them in. He was known for his penchant to be kidding around, cracking dad jokes left and right and his laughter was contagious. But those traits were nowhere to be found.
His voice was surprisingly deep as he directed his equally captivating eyes to their lead CEO with darkness even Jimin who was walking behind him found startling. “Don't forget, I'm the one who prepares your food, Kim Namjoon."
Namjoon blinked at that, his hold on his laptop loosening at his hyung’s words. “All is fair in love and war?” he supplemented sheepishly, his fingers lifting to flash him a peace sign to which his hyung merely rolled his eyes to before plopping down the huge sofa and closing his eyes, his long leg stretched out in front of him.
Next to display his displeasure was Park Jimin, the one that was the scariest when mad. “You should have just shipped us to Japan then I’d be able to at least buy my skincare products,” Jimin sassed as he rolled his eyes at the lead CEO. His nose was turned up high as he strutted in the room. Despite the long hours spent travelling, Namjoon could not see any evidence that any single blonde hair was out of place on Jimin’s. “I think I finally know what hatred feels like.”
Last to enter was Taehyung and Jungkook. In his own peculiar way, Taehyung was fake sobbing in Jungkook’s arms while the latter was pouting at Namjoon as he patted the back of the former. “I never thought I’d be betrayed by the person I look up the most!”
“Yah!” Seokjin suddenly opened his eyes in disbelief “You trust him the most when I spend all my money on your food from when you were 13 to now?!”
Jungkook merely nodded, his doe eyes seeing nothing wrong with what he said. Taehyung, on the other hand, suddenly stopped acting and stood up straight to face the occupants of the room. “How are we reduced to this: betraying each other?” his deep voice resounded over the room, holding a tone of certain seriousness. His dark eyes met theirs. “Aren’t we better than this? We are brothers. We are better than animals that kill each other in the wild to survive. We are civilized men who are in the top performers of the society, who are featured in every reputable magazine. We are men that are leaders of-”
“Weren’t you the first to betray us, hyung?” Jungkook suddenly asked, effectively cutting off his speech. His head was tilted to the side as he sat beside Seokjin who was actively pushing him away to no avail, grumbling about how he should sit beside the brother he trusted the most.
“That’s neither here nor there!” Taehyung’s volume increased from guilt, his eyes comically widening.
“How?! It’s literally here! And it’s still here!” Jimin shouted, further antagonizing his agemate to which Taehyung gladly took on. The screaming match went on, with Jin joining, whereas Jungkook chimed in every once in a while, clearly enjoying the ensuing chaos. Every now and then, though, he voiced out how much he missed you. Namjoon was massaging his forehead and quietly telling them to stop and to keep quiet because someone was sleeping. It was only Hoseok who was silently watching his brothers and doing a quiet headcount only to come up short.
“Guys? Aren’t we seven?” He broke his silence for the first time, effectively stopping the loud bickering of the brothers. “Where’s Yoongi?”
The loud bickering of his brothers faded as he slipped inside the mansion without them noticing. To be honest, he did not have the required energy to deal with them, much so when he could barely keep himself upright. He didn’t want to see that traitorous bastard, Kim Namjoon, for more than a second. They all had a piece to say but they were all morons, Yoongi thought. As he trudged up the last step of the stairs, he looked up and there was you.
Min Yoongi couldn’t believe his own eyes. He thought that it was his sanity breaking down from the physical pain he had been feeling since he parted from you, and decided to play cruel games with him in the form of you. But there was no way that you were actually here, right? There was no way you were standing in the hallway in your sleepwear…right?
On the other hand, you blinked and looked at Yoongi’s pale face. He looked like he was straining to hold himself upright, evidenced by his grip on the stair’s handrail. His hands were shaking and you were worried that any moment now, he would fall.
You were proven correct not even a second later.
You watched as his body swayed, his eyes closed and you were moving before you could even think of the repercussion. Without heeding to any of your friend’s warning about touching them, you stepped in just in time to steady his body. The momentum from his combined weight and the gravity made you stepped back as his head found its place on your shoulder. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his broad back to anchor him to you.
“Daepyonim Min,” you called for his attention, gauging his alertness while tapping your hand on his back with a sense of urgency. “Daepyonim Min, you need help. Let me call-”
“Little one,” you heard him breathed you in before speaking so slowly, a tone of disbelief in his voice. “You’re real, aren’t you?” His hand slowly cupped your cheek, needing to feel you, needing to know if the object of his love was truly here. “How?”
“I’m here…but it’s a long story. First, we need help. You’re not okay!”
“You’re here,” he repeated to himself, his voice that of wonder. “I-I’m okay now,” he replied with so much warmth as he struggled to lift himself up to look at you. “I just need to sleep. It’s been a long ass day,” he groaned, the ache from his head was slowly dissipating from the proximity to you, yet its intensity since they landed was at its highest. He knew it would take him the whole night to recuperate. But somehow, he knew he could do it easily with you by his side. He didn’t even care why you were here, or even how you got here. What was important was you were now here where you belong- with them.
Against your better judgement and completely unaware of the thoughts running in his head, you nodded as you followed his directions to his room. Just like his personality that you knew him of, his room was no non-sense in a way that all things were functional. It was apparent that the man favored minimalism and comfort over luxury. It was clean and uncluttered, with just the essentials neatly arranged. The bed, large and inviting, dominated the room, adorned with crisp white sheets and a fluffy comforter. A single nightstand stood beside it, holding a small lamp and a few books.
You helped him settle onto the bed, arranging the pillows behind him to support his weary body. He let out a contented sigh as he sank into the softness, his eyes closing momentarily in relief as the weariness slightly subdued.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with gratitude. His eyes held sincerity and warmth. The way he was looking at you, the way he was holding on to your wrist because he didn’t want to let you go only served as reminders of your guilt. He wouldn’t be acting this way if this was normal circumstances.
Your negligence that day brought you here. And those emotions he was showing you were not real, you reminded yourself.
"You're welcome," you replied softly with utmost sincerity, a gentle yet sad smile playing on your lips. "Do you need anything else before I go?"
He had you now, why would he let you go?
It was his rationale as he pulled you to lie beside him, the surprisingly comfortable bed and his enescapable hold were enough to tire you out, you pushing him away did nothing. Despite your inner turmoil, you found yourself yielding to his pull, sinking onto the bed beside him. The warmth of his body radiated against yours, a stark contrast to the chill of your guilt-ridden thoughts.
And when he whispered for you to stay, you did.
It was barely an hour later when Yoongi was awakened by the annoying buzzing of his phone. He looked at you, a smile tugging on his lips at how your mouth was agape as you slumbered off in his arms. You were just so adorable that he wanted to put you in his pocket. He grinned at that thought. He already felt better.
You were the cure, he was sure.
However, the headache seemed to be returning from the persistent phone calls he was getting. He sighed, picking up his phone carefully to not wake you up only to find out it was a videocall from Taehyung.
“Hyung! Where are you?” his deep voice resounded over the quietness of the room. Yoongi, on the other hand, had to lower the volume immediately.
“Shut up,” he admonished him quietly, careful to not arose you from your sleep.
“Are you…sleeping?! When we’re all worried about you?!” the camera spanned out to Seokjin who was eating calmly, lacking any evidence of worry that Taehyung was claiming while Jungkook was running in the background, looking for Yoongi in every corner and even under the furniture. Meanwhile, Jimin was on his phone trying to rank up on his games.
“Yes, you’re right. It’s clear that you’re all worried about me,” he noted in a deadpanned voice, not believing any bullshit coming from Taehyung’s mouth.
Namjoon entered the frame casually, his eyes taking in his hyung’s rested form. He had an inkling of suspicion as to why. “You look well-rested, hyung,” he stated his observation, his complexion looked healthy in comparison to Taehyung’s. Yoongi raised his brow at that. His initial theory that the span of time spent without you was making them sick only got stronger because of Namjoon’s healthier look.
“Did you find our gift?” Hoseok asked from behind the two men, casually hanging his arms on their shoulders. He was smiling. But his eyes held a certain darkness they usually didn’t have.
“I did. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”
Wednesday, Day 2
“No one told me that we have an adorable new housemate.”
The six sleepy men sitting around the dining table looked up as soon as Park Jimin entered the room, in his arms was a fluffy cat that was actively hissing at him. He cooed down at it, softly stroking the thick fur with his hand that was now sporting claw marks.
“We’re already so close!” he announced with softness in his voice despite the repetitive kicks brought by the furry creature in his arm.
“I don’t think you are liked very much…” Jungkook quietly commented, his doe eyes went even larger at the bleeding scratches on his skin. As if sensing an opportunity to escape, the cat suddenly wriggled free from Jimin's arms and darted across the room, landing squarely in Hoseok's lap.
“Hi, my son! Did you have a good night’s sleep?” he asked affectionately, reaching down to stroke the cat's fur.
“Hyung has a secret son!” Jungkook whispered to Taehyung in a scandalous manner, clutching his nonexistent pearls. Taehyung, who looked like he lived and fought through three wars from his exhausted form and his sluggish movement only nodded at Jungkook.
“Whose cat is that? Is that yours, J-hope?” Jin asked, pointing at the cat with his mug. He didn’t know that they now had a furry housemate. Additionally, he didn’t know that he was a cat person.
Namjoon just smirked at his brothers, “That’s not his.”
“My God, I am so tired,” Jimin sat next to Taehyung, his muscles aching with exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his whole weight on his friend, seeking some semblance of comfort in their shared weariness.
"Everything hurts," Taehyung moaned, mirroring Jimin's sentiment. He glanced over at Namjoon, pleading silently for a solution. "We need her. Hyung, please. Do something," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.
Jungkook finally put down his spoon with a loud thud, standing up to look at them one by one. “Okay, I cannot be the only one curious about whose cat that is!” he pointed at the cat who only meowed back at him before shifting his finger to his hyung who was silently eating with a smile on his face. “And you, why do you look so good this morning, hyung, while the four of us look like we are 3 hours away from passing away?” he asked Yoongi, his doe eyes demanding answers from the chaotic bunch that only turned more chaotic as the morning wore on.
Yoongi, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee, raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's question. His lips curled into a smirk, revealing a hint of amusement. "Well, Kookie, some of us are just naturally blessed with good genes," he quipped, his tone teasing.
“Excuse me?! Are you saying that I am not blessed with good genes?! Me?! The world wide handsome?! Now, you’re just outright lying!”
“Hyuuuuung, do something! I think I’m dying!” Taehyung shouted amidst the noise.
“Stop screaming you’re scaring my son!” Hoseok shot back all while covering the cat’s little ears.
“Whose cat is that even?!” Jungkook asked again in disbelief, the vein in his throat protruding from annoyance and curiosity.
“Oh my God, Taehyung! I already did something, okay?!” Namjoon finally raised his voice for him to hear.
“Ahhhhhhh, my head hurts and she’s the only cure! I have to go to her!” Jimin whined sadly, attempting to leave his chair slowly.
“In that state?!” Jin shouted at Jimin and Taehyung, already feeling the stress causing havoc on his otherwise beautiful face.
But Taehyung and Jimin were already halfway out of their chair, clutching their heads dramatically. "I can't take this anymore! I need her!" he wailed, his eyes darting around the room with desperation only to find you by some miracle.
“Little one…” he called, his voice small as though he couldn’t believe that you were truly there. It was like their pain manifested you, and heavens, it was worth it. He’d willingly go through this pain if it meant seeing you and having you here where you belonged.
With them.
“Good morning, has anyone seen my cat?”
Your voice, despite it being low, was sufficient to effectively stop the bickering among the CEOs. How they heard you amidst their own noise, you didn’t know. One thing was for certain, though. They were attuned to you like lovesick men did. Their eyes were on you with varying emotions. Jungkook was surprised, to say the least. Taehyung and Jimin, on the other hand, were relieved. Yoongi's smirk widened into a grin, his eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of you. Seokjin stared at you in disbelief, as if trying to comprehend how you managed to appear amidst the chaos. Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions reflecting a sense of contentment and joy. The pair looked like they secured an extremely important deal and even won the lottery at the same day.
You didn’t see Taehyung moved but you certainly felt how his heavy body fell against yours. You certainly heard his sigh of relief even as he swayed on his feet.
And when you touched his hand to support him, that was when he fell.
Suffice to say, no one made it to the office today.
You were seated beside Taehyung on the sofa, his thighs plastered to yours as though any space was considered a sin. He had your hand tenderly imprisoned in his. On your other side was Jimin who had his head in the vee of your shoulders. You were their medicine, they were sure.
Meanwhile, you were anything but comfortable. You were never really a fan of skinship, always the one who was reserved and preferred physical distance when surrounded by people. And yes, you were aware that thousands, if not millions, would kill to be in your spot right now but that didn’t make you any more receptive to their proximity. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, not with the way they were watching you.
Especially not with the way Hoseok’s eyebrow raised whenever you even so much as attempted to move. His pointed gaze held you in place, a silent warning against any attempt to flee.
You were stiff. But you knew, and quite frankly you were starting to believe the effectivity and potency of that wretched potion. You already witnessed five of the seven men almost crumbled to the ground from the unbearable pain. There was no way that that was not connected to that potion.
 “When did the pain start, Taehyung-ah?” Seokjin asked as he flustered over the younger CEO. He was pouring hot tea for the two agemate, his innate mother instinct surfacing. Despite that, he couldn’t help but look at you with small smile on his lips. He was happy that you were here, truly happy for the first time in ages. It was like his heart calmed down, the darkness slowly vanishing from his mind now that you were in their vicinity. Now, he could just focus on taking care of you
“At around 6 pm…less than 12 hours after little one ran from me,” he finished with his signature pout, turning to you as though he was a puppy you kicked aside and was begging you to take it back. “I was so sad when you ran from me, little one.”
“You also ran from me,” Jimin added, his pouty lips protruding even more as he glared at you. “It deeply wounded me. I am still hurt over that, you know? I woke up so early just to see you.”  
“She also ran from me…” Jungkook's voice joined the chorus from his place on the floor with his back leaning on your knees, adding his own layer of disappointment.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Namjoon asked the peculiar man in concern, his worry lessening as Taehyung started to gain back his colors.
“Because! Hyung looked sicker than me!” Taehyung response was quick while pointing at Yoongi who was looking at them stoically. He looked bored, except when he turned to look at you and then all of a sudden, he was shooting sweet smile at your direction, his fingers forming heart sign. You blinked owlishly at his sudden display of affection.
“You idiot, he’s just naturally pale!” Seokjin admonished him even as he continued to feed him light snacks.
“Next time, say something when you’re not feeling well,” Hoseok broke his silence, a smile forming on his lips and you just knew it was fake. “Our little one is with us now. We no longer have to suffer, right, sunshine?”
The weight of Hoseok's words hung in the air, wrapped in the softness and faux innocence of his tone. It almost seemed like an innocent question, but you couldn't shake the feeling of caution that settled in the pit of your stomach. After all, it was Hoseok who ensnared you in his web and brought you into this situation.
Seokjin, sensing the tension between the two of you, directed your focus on him. His body was now turned to you, his form relaxed as he offered you a gentle and encouraging smile. “How did you get here, little one?”
“Daepyeonims Kim and Jung-“
“I take back what I said last night. I love you and you’re the best leader anyone could ever have!” Jimin suddenly said, jumping from his seat to cling to the aforementioned CEO. After which, the five of them listened to your retelling of how you got here.
“It’s true that we had an inkling of why we are acting…well, the way we are,” Seokjin noted after a lapse of silence, looking down at his hands as he did so. “It was the only plausible explanation, regardless of how illogical it was.”
“We weren’t- aren’t behaving normally. We thought back to everything that transpired during that day and the only deviation was our interaction with you.,” Namjoon took charge of the explanation, his voice steady and authoritative, as befitting a leader. “At first, the symptoms were bearable to say the least. I even managed to hold off for the whole day until I saw you in the elevator. And even then, I was already suffering. The pain was nothing I ever experienced before. All I could think about was you. All I craved was your presence. All I wanted that whole day was to go to you.”
Yoongi nodded, experiencing firsthand the excoriating pain last night. “Everything was a struggle. It’s like our organs were not functioning properly, like oxygen struggled to enter our lungs no matter how hard we breathed.”
“And you are the cure.”
You lifted your eyes to Park Jimin who sounded serious for the first time this morning. His smile was even missing from his face, but his eyes held genuineness. “You’re the only one we need, little one.”
But instead of feeling relieved, you felt suffocated, overwhelmed by the weight of their dependence on you. The realization that you held the key to their well-being filled you with a sense of panic, the walls closing in around you. You wanted to help them, to ease their suffering, but the burden felt too heavy to bear. With all seven of them relying on you, the pressure threatened to crush you under its weight.
As you struggled to find your voice amidst the chaos, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The repercussions of that potion were far greater than you could have ever imagined, and now, you were left to grapple with the consequences. “Until when?”
You untangled Taehyung’s arms from you and moved away despite the whine that left Jimin. You stood up, your back almost to the wall as you regarded them with your eyes. “Until when will you need me?”
“We don’t know, yet, my love,” Namjoon answered truthfully at the same time Taehyung.
“Forever,” his deep voice resounded over the room, the weight of his words heavy in the air.
Silence descended, thick and palpable, as the gravity of the situation settled upon each of you like a suffocating blanket. The only sound was the faint hum of the ventilation system, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within your mind.
Forever. The word echoed in your ears, reverberating with both promise and dread. The thought of being tethered to them indefinitely sent shivers down your spine, a chilling reminder of the magnitude of their reliance on you.
Jimin shifted uncomfortably, his eyes pleading as he reached out a hand towards you. "Please, don't leave us," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.
Your shoulders dropped down at his plea. You knew yourself all too well. You had to help them. You had to go at the bottom of this. You were going to be patient.
But patience was never your best suit.
You finally had it at exactly five in the afternoon. See you didn’t even last for 10 hours and you already felt suffocated. Anywhere you went, there would be at least two of them tailing you. Every time you turned to ask for space, they would be flashing you the sweetest smiles you were ever given. Every time you ran into Yoongi, he would blatantly offer you all his stocks; Jin was always seen to be carrying snacks around for you and trying to feed you; Namjoon would always try to herd you in his display room of paintings and sculptures; while Hoseok would always look at you then his phone and order you clothes that you wouldn’t even dream of buying from the price alone.
Meanwhile, the maknae line was always around you, beaming with energy and trying their very best to rizz you up. It was safe to say that they were doing their absolute best to make you lose your composure.
Which is why you abruptly stopped walking, turned around, and glared at the men behind you that almost crashed into each other, including your cat that was following you around the house.
“May I help you?” you asked, your brow raised as you waited for their answer as they looked at each other.
“Yes, little one. You definitely can help us. Let’s go over there and cuddle!” Jimin smiled angelically at you as he pointed upstairs to what you assumed was his room. See, this man looked so harmless. In fact, you thought he looked the sweetest among the seven, but his eyes could never fool you. You physically saw someone blushed so hard when he smiled at them, his eyes crinkling into crescents as he brushed his hair up like he was fond of doing.
On the other hand, Taehyung, ever the agreeable companion to Jimin, nodded vigorously, his boxy smile widening as he looked at you expectantly. Jungkook was bouncing on his feet, excited with the prospect that he got to have you in his arms despite his inability to meet your eyes at the moment.
Wednesday Evening, Day 2
“We need to talk,” you huffed as you pushed the three men inside what you assumed was the common room of this huge mansion.
Seokjin, who was already inside the room and enthusiastically playing his game, rapidly turned it off despite obviously winning to give you all his attention. His back was straightened after kicking his gaming console away. The way he was looking at you made you blushed, but you were deathly determined to not show it. You were terrified that if you gave in even an inch, then these men would gladly take a mile. You couldn’t let yourself drown in this scenario, and most of all, you shouldn’t let yourself fall for them.
These were just effects of that wretched potion. None of these were real.
“Yes, little one? What’s on your mind?” Namjoon’s voice suddenly disrupted your thoughts as he walked in the room, his posture relaxed. He intentionally brushed against your side, his hard muscles softly swaying your soft one, satisfying the call inside him to have you near him. He leaned against the table where Hoseok and Yoongi were working. They both gave you their attention as soon as you declared that conversation needed to be had.
“Speak your mind, sunshine,” Hoseok urged you gently with a smile on his face as though he didn’t terrify you the night before. Your eyes lingered on him, still unable to read his true personality. Or which among the versions he showed you were his realest?
Yoongi nodded when he saw you hesitated, giving you assurance you obviously needed to continue.
“I need space.”
Cue the tears from Jungkook, chaos from Taehyung and Jimin, rapid reasoning from Seokjin, dramatic clutching of heart from Yoongi partnered with a deathly glare to the who he assumed made you say those wretched word; maknae line, clenched of jaw from Namjoon and deafening silence from Hoseok. Despite the expected mixed reaction, one emotion rose above them all.
Panic.
As though they had one mind, the six CEOs turned to look at Namjoon, a plead for him to make sense of what was happening and to fix this for them. It was obvious that they needed you like air, if not more. Their survival hinged on you, and that was not even an overstatement.
Seokjin, ever perceptive, sensed the uncharacteristic struggle within the lead CEO. Namjoon’s jaw was clenched, a sure sign of his struggle to maintain composure in the face of the unexpected. In a move only Seokjin could execute with dramatic flair, he jumped away from you, creating a symbolic distance that echoed your plea. He was pointedly looking at the expanse of space between of the two of you as though this was what you meant when you knew he understood what you truly meant by space.
“There, little one,” Seokjin spoke softly, his voice carrying a weight that resonated through the room. His eyes were dark that held a mix of understanding and yet, a stubborn determination. “Space.”
You sighed, looking up at the peculiar-looking chandelier you just knew was Taehyung’s idea. “That’s not what I meant-”
“Then what do you mean?” Taehyung cut you off, his earlier tirade and childlike rebellion with his agemate were nowhere to be found and instead, who stood before you was an entirely different man. Had you looked closer, then perhaps you would have seen the swirling darkness in his eyes.
“You know we’d die without you. Why are you doing this?” Yoongi, who was still clutching his heart, spoke lowly. His eyes that you thought to be always emotionless were brimming with sadness. His words tugged at your heart.
But if they just let you speak, then they’d understood-
“Is that what you want?” Hoseok asked monotonously, and this time he didn’t look like the lively and full of sunshine CEO. This time, he looked like a dangerous man who was about to go off. He lifted his dark brow before standing up and circling to where you were. He was close, too close and yet, none of him was touching you. The height difference between the two of you made him seemed more intimidating as he leaned down to meet your eyes. “You want us to die, is that it? Hmm?”
“No-“
“Then what?”
“I just need space for myself-“
“But noona! I need you. We need yo-“
You turned to glare at Jungkook who actively gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. “Can you let me speak? Can you all let me finish?”
“Yes, noona. Sorry, noona. You’re so beautiful, noona,” he rapidly said as he formed hearts with his fingers, his smile was lovely as though he didn’t just annoy you.
“All of you,” Namjoon’s commanding voice echoed in the room, his draconic eyes set on you even as he addressed his brothers. “Sit down and let little one talk.”
Once they were all settled in with the five men sitting on the sofa, Yoongi not moving from his seat, and Namjoon standing tall- a deliberate choice, you thought, to let you know that you might have the floor but he still held the reins, you started explaining to them how you could not do this if it meant that you wouldn’t have any time for yourself. In order to leave this house once this was all over with your sanity intact, then you had to have rules and regulations like civil men did.
Yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing your resolve. Jin shifted in his seat, his expression unreadable. Hoseok glanced between you and Namjoon, silently absorbing the tension. Taehyung and Jungkook remained quiet, their eyes fixed on you, waiting for your conditions. Jimin scoffed lightly.
“What do you propose?” Jimin asked, his velvet smooth voice seemed to be innocent had you not known that he identified as a Slytherin.
“2 hours each. I think that since there are seven of you, that would be 14 hours of my day-“
“Dibs to the remaining 10 hours!” Yoongi suddenly said, his hand shooting up and his face held determination and a hint of mischief. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Yoongi as he leaned back comfortably in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips.
Jimin raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a moment before a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Bold move, Yoongi," he remarked, his tone light but edged with amusement. "I, myself, am also vying for those ten hours, little one."
Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly, uncaring of what Jimin was saying. "I know what I want," he stated simply, crossing his arms as he leaned back further in his seat, looking supremely confident. “And anyway, now that I had her in my arms last night, I really don’t think I can sleep alone, anymore.”
“Excuse me?!” Taehyung stood up, facing Yoongi with disbelief in his face. “How did that happen-”
“Does being the oldest not mean anything anymore?!”
“You might as well step on me, hyung! You might as well kick me where it hurts the most- oh wait! You did!”
 You shook your head as maknae line plus Seokjin screamed at each other. Meanwhile, Hoseok was trying to keep the peace. Namjoon was the only one who kept on watching you, his mind going over an overdrive as to how to resolve this all while maintaining their leverage over you and keeping you happy.               
“Fine, we accept.”
They all turned to Namjoon, their eyes comically large at how easy their leader agreed. “We do?” Hoseok asked.
“Either that or lose her. Or die. So yes, we agree. In return, within those two hours of your undivided attention, you’ll cater to our every need.”
You blinked owlishly at what he said. And also, did he have to say that like that?!
“F-fine! But those ten hours will truly be mine, okay?”
“What will you even do within those ten hours, noona?” Jungkook asked innocently, his doe eyes brimming with curiosity.
“Shower, sleep, eat, meditate so as to not lose my mind-“
“But why can’t we do all those things together?” Jimin whined, swaying his body in emphasis of his desire to be included.
“Because! That’s private-“
“But we’re close!” Jungkook added, his eyes wide and earnest.
“Oh my God, you idiot,” you heard Seokjin murmured under his breath, disappointed and quite frankly, embarrassed by the youngest’s stubbornness.
“Two hours start when?” Hoseok finally asked something that could be answered logically.
“7 in the morning and ends at 9 in the evening.”
Thursday morning, Day 3
“Rise and shine, my one and only!”
Your room was gently engulfed by light as Kim Seokjin opened the door at exactly 7 in the morning. He was still wearing his blue pajamas and in his hands was a tray with what looked to be a delectable mug of coffee. You blinked your sleepiness away as he stepped in the room. He carefully placed the tray on your bedside table, before cupping your cheeks in between his hands and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
Okay.
That woke you up.
His gesture was unexpected, and it most probably showed on your face from the way he chuckled as he booped your nose.
“Ah, you’re so beautiful even in the morning, little one!” He exclaimed before stepping back and flicking the curtains open further, letting even more sunlight stream into the room. How was this fair, you wondered. How could he look so perfect and put-together even when he was still in his sleepwear? You glanced at the mirror on the wall and was horrified to see how opposite you looked to the man who just declared that you were so beautiful in the morning.
If you didn’t believe in the effectivity of the potion before, then you definitely did now. Your hair was all over the place and you had sleep in your eyes.
And oh my God, was that a dried drool on the side of your lips?!
You immediately made yourself presentable the best you could before Seokjin sat on your bed, lifting his own mug to his lips…his very plump lips. He was unfazed by your awkward demeanor.
“I am so glad I have this schedule. Nothing beats spending the morning with you,” he murmured warmly, his eyes shining with sincerity and love(?) “I made breakfast, little one. Get ready and come down, okay?”
It was quarter to eight when you finally joined him in the patio where he set up the breakfast. He was already dressed for work like you, his hair now sleeked up. Also, how could a forehead look that good? Did that even make any sense?!
He turned to you and smiled. His eyes traced your form before standing. He gently tugged you in his arms, completely engulfing you within him. You could hear his heart and hoped that he couldn’t hear yours; it was definitely embarrassing how fast yours was beating in comparison to his. You weren’t really used to being physically close to anyone, let alone your CEOs that you never had personal interactions with before this.
“I didn’t put on at tie yet because I wanted us to match,” he easily shared in your ear before guiding you to your seat as though what he did was not meant to make your heart beat faster.
You looked at all the mouthwatering dishes he prepared and wondered just how long he had been awake for. “Where are the others?” you hadn’t seen nor heard any of them in the house and you wondered if they had already eaten.
Seokjin merely smiled at you before artfully cutting pieces of the croissant he made for you and putting them on your plate. “Little one, it’s my time. You’re mine.”
“For two hours…” you added, suddenly feeling ominous by the way he worded his schedule and his dark eyes despite the sweet and seemingly harmless smile he was sporting.
“Sure.”
After he dropped you off in your office wherein he held your hand all the way from the car until he delivered you to your office chair, he planted a kiss on the back of your hand despite your reluctance. You couldn’t help but noticed the grip he had on you, nor the way he looked around the office and glared at any men glancing your way.
And of course, everyone in the office saw.
At exactly 9:01 am, a bouquet of flower was sent to your office. The sender? None other than Jung Hoseok himself.
He was sure to be punctual, not wasting any second off his scheduled time. He thought that time was gold, and he wanted nothing more since he woke up to be with you.
Sufficed to say, Jung Hoseok craved you so bad.
Your eyes widened from the sunflowers to him as he flashed you his sunny smile as though he didn’t scare you the past days with his warnings. “For the most beautiful part of my day.”
You could hear the murmurs of your officemates, and you were already dreading the gossips that would surely come. You wondered how they would look at you once this was all over. For sure, you’d be the laughing stock of the ton.
You most probably have to resign…
“Darling?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Hoseok tilted his head as he leaned in you, his hand on your armrest. This close and you could smell him. And heavens. He smelled heavenly. He smelled clean and crisp, like the subtle touch of ocean breeze. This close and you could see how perfect his features were, how harmoniously proportionate they were. This close and you could see the darkness he always kept in bay.
“What are you thinking?”
“N-nothing-“
“Tell me,” he demanded gently, his eyes trained on your lips like no one was looking, like you and him were existing in your own world where no one could touch you and take you away from him.
Where no one could take you away from them.
“I-“
“Good morning! I have great, great news!”
Your friend breezed into the office, fashionably late as usual, her face lit up with excitement. The room buzzed with curious glances as she made her way to her desk, her eyes searching until they landed on yours. The grin she was sporting faltered off as the CEO turned to her with an expression she didn’t like before it all went away and Hoseok flashed her a smile.
“G-good morning, Daepyeonim Jung.”
“Good morning,” he answered cheerfully, fully straightening up and granting you the much-needed space to catch your breath. “What’s your good news?”
She looked at you, and only when you nodded did she whisper the news that her grandmother knew someone from the mountains that had the answer and solution. Her voice was hushed enough that your coworkers couldn’t hear her, yet clear enough to give you hope. Your grin was so wide as you stood up and hugged her.
It was only when you turned to Hoseok to share your happiness did you notice something unsettling. His expression had darkened briefly, a shadow passing over his features before he hastily composed himself with a bright smile.
What was that?
Before you could dwell on that, he declared it good news and pulled you out of the office.
You found yourself standing in the middle of his office as he plopped down on his chair, stack of paper on his table that grew in size from missing yesterday’s work. He seemed busy, yet he was looking expectedly at you. His eyes were serious as he gestured for you to come closer.
It was apparent he wasn’t happy with the distance when you decided to stop three feet away from him. His eyes remained impassive as he sighed and without any warning, pulled you to him. You landed on his surprisingly muscular lap, your hands automatically going to his shoulders in an effort to steady you.
Your eyes widened at his actions and any attempt to stand up was squashed by his ironlike grip around you.
“Didn’t you promise you’d cater to our every need when we agreed on that ridiculous two-hour schedule?”
“And having me on your lap is a need?!”
“It is. I want- no. I need you close,” and only when he confessed did you see the miniscule tremors in his hands. He was nuzzling his face on your neck, breathing in the scent he missed so much. Your soft skin against his touch somehow calmed the demons. If he was already like this despite you seeing him last night, then it meant that their symptoms were worsening like what your friend warned you of. The more time you spent with them and the more that your skins touched meant that their lovesickness would only worsen in time.
You were dreading to think what would happen to the remaining CEOs and how they would act, more so when Jimin and Namjoon were in the last two.
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Namjoon's schedule sneakpeak Jungkook’s schedule sneakpeak, Part 3 sneakpeak, Part 3
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moonchild9350 · 1 month ago
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Before You Go
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Summary: you’d give or do anything for your boyfriend, especially if he pouts cutely at you.
Pairing: established relationship Han x fab!reader
Genre: smut-18+ MDNI
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: teasing, masturbation, handjob, oral sex (m & f receiving), clit play, clit slapping, dirty talk, unprotected sex (don't), squirting, creampie, taking nudes, thick cock Han lol
Notes: Jisung's pouts, that's it that's the post. I'd do anything for him if he pouted at me lol
Divider by: @cafekitsune
If you enjoyed please reblog, comment, or like ♡
Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)
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“Babe, lemme fuck you.”
These four words stopped you in your tracks, your head snapping to look at your boyfriend sitting on your bed. You eyed him as he lounged on the bed, his hand placed behind his head as he smirked at you.
“What?” You responded you voiced laced with disbelief.
You were packing your suitcase, preparing for a trip with your girls in three days. You would be gone for one week and your boyfriend Jisung had much to say about it. He’s been nagging you nonstop, saying he’ll miss you and what will he do when you’re gone. Every chance he’ll get he attaches himself to you in some way…not that you cared much.
“Lemme fuck you!” He repeated, this time with a little desperation in his voice.
You stared at him, watching as he squeezed his thighs together, his bulge very much present in the gray sweatpants he was wearing.
Taking a deep breath you said in a sing song voice, “No.”
You walked away to gather more clothes as Jisung whined, his bottom lip jutting out like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“Well what am I supposed to do about this?” He inquired, gesturing toward the tent in his pants.
“Go jerk off babe…without me,” you added as you noticed his eyes get big and bright as he probably thought of some grand idea to get through this slump.
“You hate me!” Jisung said as you walked out the bedroom, to go grab a snack.
“Whatever you say babe!” you teased as you smirked.
The next two days passed in a similar fashion with Jisung flashing his boba eyes at you and begging for sex, claiming he’s had blue balls for the last two days. You knew the last part to be true, but that just made him more whiny and desperate which you loved.
He tried everything from cooking you a nice dinner to even helping you pack, his little brain thinking you’ll give in and have sex. However, you were steadfast in your task, not budging in your decision.
The afternoon before your departure, you needed to make a quick drugstore run, picking up some last minute supplies. You pressed a chaste kiss to Jisung’s lips, chuckling as he chased after you hoping for more.
“I’ll be back babe!” You said as you shut the door, a little whimper from Jisung reaching your ears last minute. — — Once you were done with your errands, you made your way back to your apartment. You made it in record time, wanting to finish up packing as soon as possible so you could relax.
As you unlocked the door, you heard a low moan, the sound drawn out and laced with frustration. You tossed your keys on the hallway table, kicked off your shoes, and made your way towards the sound.
It seemed to grow louder as you neared your bedroom door. You smirked, knowing exactly what was going on behind the door, the thought causing your pussy to clench.
Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, your eyes zeroing in on your boyfriend laying spread eagle on the bread. His head was tossed back as he rhythmically stroked his cock, lewd wet sounds echoing in the room from the copious amounts of precum that was leaking from his tip.
“Fuck! Y/n, please!” Jisung whined as he canted his hips upwards as he picked up the pace.
You decided to stop his fun, walking over to the bed and slapping his hand away. He let out a loud groan in frustration, his wet eyes snapping to yours.
“Why’d you do that?” He whimpered, his cock twitching pathetically as it lay against his stomach neglected.
“Awww, are you having trouble babe? Hmm?” You teased, rising your eyebrow at him.
Jisung nodded his head, his lip jutting out as he wiggled on the bed. He was so hard it was almost painful, his length seeming to grow with each passing second.
“Answer me babe,” you cooed, crawling onto the bed as you shucked your top off.
Jisung’s eyes widened at the sight of your tits, the flesh all but spilling from your bra.
“Mmm yes baby, need- need your help…please, please,” he whimpered, his words trailing off to a whisper.
You chuckled as you approached him, licking your lips at the sight of his chubby cock.
“Poor baby,” you hummed, as you wrapped your hand around his length.
Jisung let out a hiss as you slowly stroked his shaft, your wrist circling around the head to gather more of the leaking pre cum. With your other hand, you fondled his balls, squeezing them gently as he thrashed around, high pitched moans leaving his lips.
“Mm close baby,” Jisung panted as he thrusted his hips up into your hand as you matched his pace.
“Already?” You smirked as you squeezed his cock causing him to yelp. “Aren’t you just desperate.”
Jisung whimpered as his breathing increased, his words a jumbled mess as he chased his high. You chuckled before leaning down to take him within your mouth. You bobbed your head once, twice, three times before darting your tongue out to press into his slit.
“I’m…I’m coming!” Jisung wailed as he shot ropes of his cum down your throat.
You suckled the head as he came, moaning around his length at the taste. Once he relaxed, his body going limp, you continued to suckle his cock, teasing his slit again and again until he was whimpering from the overstimulation.
He tugged on your hair, attempting to get you to stop, mumbling that it was too much. You released his cock with a pop and licked your lips, grinning at the man below you.
“Help me out babe,” you said as you popped your bra off and rid yourself of your sweatpants and panties.
You laid down and chuckled as Jisung eagerly laid on his belly, grasping your legs in the process. He spread your legs, moaning as he laid eyes on your wet folds, your arousal glistening in the light of the bedroom.
He leaned forward and licked a stripe up your folds and pressed a kiss to your clit. Jisung repeated the action again and again, grasping your legs tighter as you thrashed around.
“Mmm love your pussy,” he mumbled before sucking your swollen clit between his plush lips.
You moaned as he alternated between licking and sucking, his nose pressed flush against your mound as he ate you out like a man starved. You ran your fingers through his hair, grasping some of the strands as you rocked your hips against his tongue.
Jisung relaxed the muscle so you could get off as you pleased, the vibration from his moans sending little shocks through your core.
You were close as he was at your mercy, your belly tightening with each thrust of your hips.
“So close Sungie, so good, lemme just use you,” you said as you grasped his head harder and pulling him further flush against your pussy.
Jisung wrapped his lips around your clit once more before sucking hard, the sudden switch causing you to tip over the edge, your orgasm racking through your body. You continued to ride his face, coated his nose and chin with your arousal.
Once the last ebs of your high faded away, you released your hold on Jisung and tried to focus on your breathing. Jisung sat up with a huge grin on his face, his chin glistening.
He brought his hand to his hardened cock, stroking the length a few times before pinning your legs down to the bed.
“Can I fuck you?” Jisung asked as he looked down at you desperately, his big boba eyes traveling from your tits down to your pussy and then to your face.
You pretended to think for a moment, your eyes on his face. You thought about saying no once more, but you needed him just as much as he needed you. Your pussy clenched around nothing, your slick continually leaking out and dripping down your ass.
Jisung smirked, his eyes trained on your core. He brought a thumb to your clit and gently circled it, biting his lip as wet sounds echoed in the otherwise quiet room.
“Let me fuck you baby,” Jisung cooed as he continued to tease your bundle of nerves. “Your pussy needs me, listen to it, she’s talking to me.”
You whimpered as a wave of pleasure settled in your pelvis, the need to be filled by his thick cock on the forefront of your mind.
You gripped your thighs and held them open as you looked your lover in the eyes.
“Yes, fuck me Sungie,” you said in a sultry voice.
Jisung smiled and pushed the head of his cock through your folds, the flesh parting at the intrusion. He dragged his length from your clit down until the tip caught your entrance.
With a breath, he pushed in, your little hole stretching as it accommodated his length. You moaned at the pressure, loving how he filled you so good, so perfect.
Jisung thrusted his hips slowly, fucking just the tip within your entrance, mesmerized at how you took him so well.
Your walls were warm and wet, the sound your pussy made driving him insane. He needed to be within you and he needed it now. With a powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully within you, letting out a loud groan as he settled within your thighs.
“Ahh!” You whined at the sudden intrusion, your eyes rolling back as he begin to pummel into you, his balls slapping your ass with each thrust.
You gripped your thighs, his biceps, the sheets, anything you could get ahold of as he fucked you deep and hard, his cock massaging your walls just right.
Jisung adjusted his hips so he could fuck into your sweet spot, sending little waves of pleasure through your core.
“Faster Sungie!” You begged as you took him in, watching as he fell apart above you.
His eyes were trained on his cock, watching as your entrance stretched around it, leaving behind your cream assisting with the glide. He let out a groan as you clenched around him, trying to keep him snug within you.
“Look at this mess baby,” he said as he watched your arousal mixed with your cream drip down your ass, coat the little hairs on his pelvis and your folds.
You groaned as his words, clenching your walls again and again as your pleasure built within. Jisung brought his thumb to your clit and flicked it, his cock twitching at how you responded, your body jerking at the shocks of pleasure he was giving you.
“Don’t stop,” you mumbled so close to your high, the warm feeling slowly spreading throughout your lower region.
“Gonna come? Come for me baby, give it to me,” Jisung growled as he slapped your clit.
You yelped at the sensation as he chuckled. Jisung loved your pussy, worshipped it, would do anything to make it cum, cream his length, and milk him for what it’s worth.
“Damn, im gonna miss this pussy,” Jisung whined.
He was close, your pussy too much for his sensitive cock. He thumbed your clit in earnest, needing you to reach your high so he could fill you up.
You began to pant as your pleasure mounted, coming to a crescendo as Jisung continued to fuck you and finger your clit.
With Jisung’s name on your lips, you let go, squirting your release around his cock. You moaned as you listened to the lewd sounds, so wet and filthy as your arousal dripped onto the sheets.
“That was hot, so hot. Gonna cum, gonna…” with a strangled moan Jisung came, filling you up with his cum until it dripped out of your hole mixed with your slick.
Jisung looked down once more before grabbing his phone off the table.
“What are you doing?” You asked as you watched him search through the device.
He didn’t answer but instead you heard a shutter click as he took photo after photo of your pussy, his cock still buried within your warmth.
“Gotta have something to remember you by while you’re gone,” Jisung said as he tossed his phone to the side.
“And you thought to take photos of my pussy,” you chuckled.
“Mmhmm, I love her just as much as I love you baby,” he said as he withdrew his now softened cock.
“You’re unbelievable,” you said as you waited for him to clean you up.
“Maybe, but you love me!” Jisung shouted from the bathroom.
That you did. And how could you not with that adorable cute face and pout of his.
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taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @baby-stay92 @possum-playground
566 notes · View notes
meo-eiru · 4 months ago
Note
What do all your boys wear to sleep?
Silas either sleeps with his usual clothes minus the gold or naked, he doesn't really mind it because it's just his body in it's natural state and he also wouldn't mind it if you said you wanted to sleep naked with him. He prefers making you wear cute human pajamas though.
Elias has a cute white pajama set with pink rabbits on it. It's very comfy and he quite likes it but he also doesn't mind wearing some riskier stuff to steal some of your attention.
Lavi sleeps with panties and one of your shirts if he feels like it. You don't have a say in the matter, he doesn't care about your size or style, your clothes are his clothes.
Ciaran wears something like this on top:
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and also wears some black pants under them. Not something uncomfortable or daily wear pants like jeans, but something more similar to tights.
One eyed monster is more normal compared to the rest. He doesn't really have a pajama set he commits to. He often just takes a t-shirt he finds comfortable and wears some sweatpants.
Micah:
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ok ok jokes aside, something more like this
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gloomwitchwrites · 1 year ago
Text
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Task Force 141 Imagines & What If... Series: The Masterlist
Requests: OPEN
To submit a request, please send me an ask. Anon and non-anon are fine. I will not accept requests sent via direct message or in comments on posts.
All requests will be fulfilled for Task Force 141 which include Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap. Specification of who and who isn't included in the prompt will result in me deleting the ask. For example, if you send in a prompt but only want it fulfilled for three out of the four members, it will not be fulfilled.
Requests are allowed to add one additional character but only if they are part of 141 in some capacity. For example, you can send in an imagines request for 141 + Alejandro. You are not allowed to send in a request for 141 + König. Non-141 requests should be sent in as a headcanon or quick write request.
Not specifying that you are sending an imagines/what if request will push your request into the headcanon/quick write queue.
I reserve the right to deny any request. Sending in requests that violate my boundaries will be deleted without notification and will result in a block (if sent non-anon). I reserve the right to change an imagines request into a headcanon or quick write request.
Repeat requests happen. If I have several requests that are extremely similar, I will group them all under one post. Requests sent that repeat already fulfilled requests will be deleted.
Clarification is absolutely allowed and encouraged. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you have questions.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist
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Posted Prompts:
Kitchen Quickies
Worm
Don't Move
Hand Necklace
What are we?
By the Belt
Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend (Preview)
Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend (Main)
Break Up With Your Toxic Boyfriend (Bonus)
Clumsy
Just Like Dad
Still in love / obsessed Ex-Husband
Sensitive
Can't Risk Losing You
Overheard Confession
Overheard Confession (ii)
Hickey
Hickey (ii)
Transfer
Husband/Boyfriend
Morning After
Flowers
Bullied
Premium Air
Not Easy
Last Name
Need
Grey Sweatpants
Translation
Dad Line
Sit Down
Sit Down (ii)
Spicy Texts
In the Rain
Officer
Secret Baby
Safe Word
Stag Night
Phone Call
One Bed
First "Love You"
Leave the Room
Bumps
Shut It
Unhinged
Chase
Brazilian Wax
Sparring Session
Magic Mike
Scary
Piercings
Someone Else
Bigger Portion
Crush
Uniform On
On Holiday
Alternative
Period Cramps
Return Home (HC)
Enough
Singing Voice
Bratty Attitude
K.I.A.
Struggle
Virgin
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sapphic-kpop-fics · 1 month ago
Note
can you do a car sex with jihyo?
Backseat (Park Jihyo x Reader)
Smut
2 am hook up with your fwb jihyo. That’s it.
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It was late, the red 1:47 AM glaring at you from your bedside table as you look over. You had tried to sleep, for hours but you simply could not stop thinking.
The main thing occupying your thoughts is your friend, more so fuck buddy, Jihyo. You couldn’t stop thinking about her, and her tan skin, or her lips, and god her fingers.
Now you’re in bed sexually frustrated and you couldn’t sleep because you’re so horny. You had just seen her the other day, a similar situation to now though it was earlier in the day.
Finally you have enough and reach for your phone and immediately finding her contact to send a text.
You
Are you awake?
A few minutes pass with no answer.
You
I know it’s late
Actually never mind
Sorry
A few minutes in between each message, embarrassment seeps in especially thinking about potentially waking the woman just to tell her she needed her to come fuck you.
Jihyo ❤️‍🔥
It’s okay I was already awake
What’s wrong?
Jihyo knew why you texted, I mean it’s almost 2 am why else would the person she regularly hooks up with text her at this time but she wanted you to say it.
You
I need you
Jihyo ❤️‍🔥
Be there in 10.
You don’t even bother getting dressed out of your sweatpants and sleep shirt, grabbing your key and slipping on some shoes by your door as you make your way to the front of your house.
Jihyo refused to hook up with you in either of your own homes, either a club bathroom or a hotel usually, according to her it was crossing a line between friends and girlfriends to have sex in your personal bed, whatever that means. So you wait outside your door, a bit pathetically, for her to arrive and she does almost exactly ten minutes after her text.
You hurriedly walk to her car and get into the passenger seat, not looking at her face yet to avoid her immediately intense stare that makes your cheeks flush. But once you do look you’re captivated, her hair is down and wavy, messily resting on her shoulders. Wearing a cropped white tank top and sweatpants, showing off her abs (which you can’t stop staring at)
Her left hand is still on the steering wheel while her other arm’s elbow rests on the center console, chin in her hand as she looks at you.
“Soo…” She pauses a smirk threatening to form, “What’d you need me for?”
You roll your eyes at her before you respond.
“You know what.”
Now boldly wearing the smirk she thinks for a second, looking around and then to her backseat.
“Well.” She nods her head to the back.
“Wh- in here? We’re in the middle of my street.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“What if my neighbors see?”
“My windows are tinted.” She answers quickly, obviously eager to fuck you in her backseat.
She looking at you like you’re her next meal and, well you might be. Taking her hand from under her chin to brush the hair out of your face.
“Come on baby, you want me to fuck you right?”
You stare at her for a second, cheeks heating up at her words. You open the car door and get out, for a second Jihyo is worried she scared you off and you’re about to walk back inside until you open the back door and enter giving her a look making the older girl unbuckle and get out the front seat. First stopping to make her front seat go all the way up and then getting in the back.
A hand grips your neck to pull you into a kiss, it’s hungry, almost as if Jihyo wanted it just as much as you. Her lips wander over your jaw and neck to leave dark bruises, staking her claim even if she insists you’re just friends.
Jihyo finds her place on her knees in the floorboard when you part as she had extra space now, pulling your hand so you get the hint to sit in the seat in front of her. She’s slipping your sweatpants off in no time taking your underwear with them and placing your legs on her shoulders.
“Oh, you’re soaked baby.” A teasing voice, “is that why you couldn’t sleep?” Her pointer rubbing over your center in circles, “What got you so frustrated, hm?”
“I-fuck.” Her finger quickens the circles, “was- mm, thinking about- y-you.” It takes more time than it should for you to get the words out, Jihyo smiling up at you while mockingly nodding her head.
“Oh yeah? What were you thinking pretty girl?”
“Y-your-“ You’re cut off by a finger entering you, your words getting replaced by a gasp following by moans.
“Come on use your words.”
“Mouth. Want your mouth.” Your speech caveman like as you’re filled with need for the older girl.
Now she makes herself busy kissing your thighs, they’re messy and her teeth bite down on your skin no doubt leaving bruises but she soothes over them with her tongue. Her mouth came close to your center and you subconsciously spread your legs wider for her.
“Want me to taste you baby?”
You had never been more attracted to her, blown pupils staring up at you as she’s on her knees about to eat you out, her own saliva coating her mouth and chin from the messy kisses she left.
“Please.”
Her tongue is immediately on you, leaving no room to tease you and going straight into devouring you. Three fingers enter you without warning causing you to tangle your hand in her hair, the other gripping the back of her leather seat.
“Jihyo. Fuck.”
Your nails dig into her scalp as you pull her hair slightly causing a groan, the vibrations stimulating you even more. Her left hand grips your thigh, red marks underneath her fingers and indents from her nails.
“I missed tasting you.” Her cheek rest on your thigh as she parts to catch her breath, still moving her fingers. She had seen you less than 48 hours ago, eating you out in a random room at a friend’s house during a get together that involved way too much wine, “Want my pretty girl to cum all over my tongue.”
With that she reconnects her mouth to your core, moaning instantly at the taste.
“‘M so close Hyo.” You manage to whimper out.
“I’ve barely even touched you baby.”
“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, and your hips at her teasing.
“Is that really how you should talk to the woman giving you an orgasm?” A playful grin on her face.
You roll your eyes again and just as you’re about to speak her fingers curl just right, and her lips suck on your clit.
“Oh fuck, don’t stop.”
Her fingers speed up as does her tongue.
“Cum for me baby”
As soon as you do she removes her fingers so she can taste you fully, collecting all of the wetness on her tongue as you ride your high, hand on her head to keep her mouth against you as you basically ride her face.
When you finally settle, closing your eyes while catching your breath. Finally opening your eyes you see Jihyo looking back up to you with a cocky smile on her face.
“Good?” A teasing lilt to her voice, she knows how good it was.
You don’t answer besides pushing her head away so you can move to the other side of the backseat to put your underwear and pants back on.
Jihyo loved to tease you, your reactions were amusing to her. Whether when fucking you or in normal conversations.
Out of the corner of your eye you can see Jihyo wiping her mouth and then looking at you, with a smile that you don’t want to unpack, it was different than usual. But it doesn’t last long before she back at smirking and teasing you.
“See you in a couple days?”
“No.” You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that takes over, no truth to what you say. You open the door and get out but Jihyo keeps it open as you walk away.
“Come on.” She drags out.
“Go home Jihyo.”
She does go home, however you do in fact call her again in a couple days to come over again. Her backseat becoming all too familiar over time.
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theorist-fox · 3 months ago
Text
Promise rings
Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader
Crossposted on AO3.
Filthy. That's it. If you want some more humiliation kink I highly, highly, highly, highly recommend this by @/the-californicationist
Part 1 >> Part 2 >> Part 3 >> Part 4
18+
Word count: 5.2k
Summary: Simon fingers you in the rec room and you give him a promise ring. Or two—depending on how many fingers he's used.
CW: smut (fingering, finger sucking, squirting), humiliation kink, semi-public, Simon is a little mean but you love it so it's fine, dub con if you squint and mention of safeword
Masterlist 🦊
𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬
“Don’ wan’ anyone to hear ya now, do we?” 
He hushes you, mouth to your ear. His hand is shackled to your hips by the waistband of your sweatpants, two thick fingers already slick and buried to the knuckle.
Simon holds you tightly in place, hand curled at the base of your throat as an empty threat he won’t fulfill unless you kindly ask. He has you tucked between his legs, aptly spread to accommodate your body in between, as he slowly pumps his fingers into your cunt. Your knees are conveniently hooked on each of his thighs, and they’re already trembling even if he’s just begun.
Sweat collects on your back, dampening your shirt and by extension his own too. You feel his heart rabbit in his ribcage, thrumming against your spine. Thick arms glue your back to his chest—just in case you want to make a run for it. 
As if, right?
Earlier that night, he’d caught you out of your room much past midnight, trying to sneak a cuppa in the common area. Told you something along the lines of how he should have you cleaning the toilets because you’re breaking curfew, and you bit back with a hefty dose of sarcasm about how that’s not your favorite punishment he’s ever given you.
And so, he’d grabbed you by the waist and dropped back on the couch with an arm still coiled around it. 
You’re ashamed to say it only took two fingers circling your entrance and his tongue licking wanton stripes down your neck to make you embarrassingly wet. Balaclava lifted to his nose, he’d murmured unholy things to your ear, like how he’d want to drill in your head that you can’t go and break base rules, how he can’t keep covering for you, how he’d love to teach you a lesson by splitting you in half on his cock until you can only part your lips to apologize for giving him a headache.
But alas, the location isn’t sex friendly. 
However, the notion hasn't stopped Simon from adopting a more subtle approach that would lead to a similar conclusion. Like swirling the tips of his fingers around the fluttering hole of your cunt. Or biting softly at the shell of your ear, while keeping you nice and still with a hand on your collarbones.
Doesn’t stop him now, as he curls the pads of his fingers until they press where the velvet of your walls gets rougher to the touch. 
You abandon your head back onto his shoulder, heavy puffs leave your mouth in tandem with the skilled work of his hand, one that knows every nook and cranny of you. Glossy lips start nibbling at his neck and you relish how his throat bobs each time your teeth sink a little deeper. His growing stubble scratches the tender skin of your mouth, but it’s more than fine because you like how it stings.
“Little more, please?” You breathe.
But it’s then that he stops beckoning his fingers, leaving your walls to clamp around them as they fall still. You protest by biting the tendons of his neck a bit harder, suppressing a groan into it.
“Maybe it went over your head,” he drawls, tugging the balaclava down his chin before returning his hand at the base of your throat. “But this is a punishment, love.”
He cruelly leaves your hole to desperately flutter around nothing, but ultimately uses those same fingers to wet the rest of your sex. Keeping quiet becomes less of an option when he starts rubbing idle circles on your clit. He’s neglected it all this time, making it swell with blood and causing its sensitivity to peak. 
You shudder when he first brushes over it. 
As if out of habit, you search for his lips, sure to add a nice make-out session to pair with his fingers. But your mouth only meets fabric, and you frown.
“Don’t be a bastard, Riley.”
He hums, turning away to press a kiss to your cheek through the balaclava. “Only way I know.”
You pout. “Just one.”
“Behave.”
With a sigh, you relent. There’s no use in begging for something he won’t give you. You’ve learned to recognize what you can get from Simon, and what will be out of reach for the time being. If he’s decided he doesn’t want to kiss you, you will not get a kiss. 
But it doesn’t mean that you can’t be a little petty about it. 
You tug at his mask with your teeth, catching his lower lip too, and sharply bite into it.
In response, Simon slaps your pussy. A wet thwack echoes in the silent rec room. It sends tingles up your spine, and you hiss and gasp against his lips. Your nerves are currently haywire, and they cannot discern whether that rush was due to pain or pleasure.
You pull back only to pout, but it's obvious to both of you that there is no animosity in your eyes. In fact, Simon’s gaze falls to your lips with lust embedded in his pupils, and he takes that slightly jutting lower lip of yours as a little plea for him to give you what you need. Which is why he brushes his wet fingertips to your clit again, and again, until he can feel you soften in his grasp with a sequence of breathy, surrendering sighs. Only then, when you feel like molten wax in his hands, he switches to more rewarding, steady circles.
His focus leaves your lips only to take in your eyes. They’re diligently trained on him, because you know he likes to look you dead in the eye when he’s making you tremble to the bone. Eye contact is the only means he uses to communicate with you in the fog that is your relationship.
He’s more absorbed than you are, your eyes getting glassier by the minute. You want to keep it up, to hold your own against his stare that defies you to crack him open and peel the layers and understand. But you and him both know that is the last straw for you. He’s made you sensitive and supple and dull. Your head rolls back against his shoulder, and you push back, once again, the discovery of Simon Riley.
You breathe softly against his neck, trying to give yourself some containment due to the location you’re in. Nails dig in his forearms until they mark pink crescents over his tattoos, hoping that releasing tension through touch would help you keep your mouth shut.
Simon knows you still have something up your sleeve to use against him, because his weakness is to have you yearning for him as much as he does you—to have you pleading for his words, his touch, his presence, like he internally does each time you walk into his same space. 
You’ve never had a problem begging. When you’re confident enough about your person, pride doesn’t even get involved—they’re just words, and if he likes them, then so be it.
As long as he makes you come until your head spins.
“Please, Simon.” You whimper, putting up that act he knows all too well. As if he’d believe you’re truly submitting to him—but it’s fine, to be honest.
He's never wanted you to bend for him. Simon likes that fire that singes your pupils when you’re on active duty, or when you fuck him. He wouldn’t dream of snuffing it out, not when he’s more than aware that it makes him glow, too.
“Bit louder.” He rasps against your ear.
And you oblige, going as far as to wet your lips and bat your pretty lashes at him. Minx.
“Please? I’ll suck your cock after.”
Simon huffs. “Sellin’ it alrigh’.”
He loves to feel the stiffness of your clit under the pads of his fingers, how the more he skims them over it, the harder it gets—as if he’s flipping a switch. Which he sort of is, isn’t he? You’ve turned from the snarky little minx that could make him crack a smile or two, into this soft clay molding under the warmth of his touch.
“Wanna cum,” you sigh sweetly against his skin, sucking tenderly at the exposed flesh on his neck. “Please, Simon, let’s go to my room.”
He tuts at you, slowing down with his hand only to get you annoyed.
“We’re gonna stay ‘ere,” he murmurs, softly shaking his head so that the fabric of the balaclava scratches your skin. 
Then, out of the blue, you feel fingers dig into your jaw and pulling your mouth away from his neck. He forces your eyes forward, where the door of the rec room opens to the dark hallway. 
“You’re gonna cum on my hand, yeah? Soak it nicely.” He rasps against your ear, “An’ you’re gonna be quiet ‘bout it.”
Your cunt flutters.
“Need you sharp. Tha' clear?” He says, commanding as ever. “Answer, Sergeant.”
It almost makes you unravel then and there. Your eyes roll back and your hips buck against his hand. But you still have bits of reason floating around that mush he’s turned your brain into. 
He leaves the grip around your jaw and returns his hand at the base of your throat, thumb and middle finger gently pressing at its sides. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder with blissful abandon.  
“Cameras,” you mumble, sounding a little stupid and definitely on the verge of surrender. “There’re cameras.”
His response comes swiftly. “Not pointin’ at the sofa.”
Your chest stutters. He feels it under the weight of his palm. Your soft moans quiet down, too. A telltale sign of your beautiful brain whirring its cogs again. How he loves it, more than your body. Outwitting his every move. A true opponent—or ally, if only he’d allow you a little closer.
“You planned this, haven’t you?” You whisper cleverly, face still hidden in the crook of his neck and chest still heaving under his hand. Still affected by him, and yet your voice sounds steady and smooth.
And you’re so right. He knows this place by heart and could walk around it blindfolded. When he saw you in your grey sweatpants and an old white t-shirt, fumbling lazily with the electric kettle, blood had rushed so quickly to his cock he thought he could have fainted.
There is something about you invested in this almost boring, domestic light that always strikes him breathless. When the outline of the pillow fabric is imprinted in your cheek. When your hair is tousled by the bedsheets.
You look good in uniform too, all safely cradled in Kevlar and padded in neoprene. But it’s when you look drowsy and soft that sends him spiraling.
With the calculating mind of the pathological control freak he is, he’d retraced the position of the cameras in his head, and promptly decided to have you then and there.
The silence following your question must not be as subtle as he thinks. In seconds, you go from pliantly soft, into a squirming mess trying to escape him. Simon manages to hold you still only because he overpowers you in strength.
“What is it, mh?” You hiss, pushing at his forearm. “Been following me, L.T.?”
He hadn’t. Truly, he’d just stumbled upon you. It wouldn’t be too odd—he’s a sleepless ghost, after all, oftentimes found wandering around base at ungodly hours. The fact that he’d found you in his usual haunting grounds had been mere luck—true, blessed luck.
“You are-”
“Shut up.”
“-Fucking obsessed, and you-”
“Don’t.”
“-can’t even admit it.“
“Sergeant.”
“Coward.”
He plunges those two fingers back inside, punching a gasp out of you, and he gives no time for your hole to readjust to the stretch. Simply, he starts dragging against the front of your walls with a voracity that could be mistaken for hate, if you didn’t know him better.
You stiffen suddenly, arching your back off his chest. Teeth catch your bottom lip in an almost bloodthirsty grip—as much as you want to scream at him, you don’t want to get caught either.
He rams relentlessly into you until you're melting once again. His mouth is painfully pressed against your ear, and if the balaclava wasn't in the way, he would be lapping at whatever piece of flesh he could land on.
“Y’re a clever little thing, uh?” He groans huskily. “Always got the fuckin’ answer ready.”
You laugh under your breath, perhaps because you’re getting exactly what you want, or perhaps because you’ve been reading him more keenly than he thought and you've finally uncovered some new information that has been shrouded in darkness up until now.
He doesn’t care, and he gives in to you.
“Oh, you love it, you bastard,” you bite back breathlessly, which only makes his cock twitch in the tight space of his briefs.
“Smug little cunt.” He breathes in your ear, but you swear there isn’t an ounce of hostility in it.
You turn your head to meet his eyes. The playful smile on your fucked out face is straight out of his dreams—he's seen it so many times and yet it never ceases to amaze him. Nor does the way your hair bounces off your face in recoil from the frantic work of his hand. Or how your cheeks turn ruddy for him. Or how your lashes cast heavy shadows down your face.
“You love this smug little cunt, too.” You breathe, smugly.
Just proving his words, really.
“Don’t get cocky,” he hums in your ear. “Might gonna have to prove ya wrong, then.”
The heel of his hand rolls against your puffy clit in tandem with his fingers, because he wants you to come undone impossibly quick now that you’ve caught him red-handed.
It’s enough to make you forget you’re having a battle of wits with him. Your eyes roll back again, and your head falls limply onto his shoulder.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you wheeze, and he takes that as a sign to not stride away from the pace he’s taken.
His hand at the base of your neck tightens slightly, causing your breathy moans to lodge in your throat. Your cunt clenches right then, and your lips tug in a smile—because you love it, and he knows.
His contorted little mess. His cunning fox, strutting around the base with so much confidence in her gait, looking seemingly untamable. But when you're in his clutches, you're nothing but his pet, the one who enjoys having her leash tugged a little more firmly than socially acceptable.
“S-Simon.” Yes. Yes. C’mon, sweetheart. C’mon. “Simon – oh God –“
You’re being too loud. He doesn’t care if he gets caught with his pants down. He dares someone to confront him about it. Simon doesn’t revel in fickle things like dignity, not after life has done its goddamn worst to strip him of it.
But you? Hell, not you. He cherishes your privacy, in spite of how this whole predicament might make it look otherwise. On top of that, he selfishly likes to think he’s the only one with the delightful honor to see you so flushed and breathless, moaning his name like it’s the only one you know.
“Told ya to stay quiet.” And he stuffs two fingers in your mouth.
You groan and suck them back to your throat, until his pads graze the soft palate at the back. You gag around them, and he almost comes in his pants, wishing it was his cock instead. 
“Bite, don’t shout.” 
And you do. You bite the flesh around the base of his fingers, while his other ones are bringing you closer to the edge. An edge you’ve touched plenty of times with him, but one you’d rather not reach in such a public spot.
Granted, it’s night. It would be a fateful event for someone to walk by—rare, if not unique.
But still.
“Simon,” you moan, voice muffled around his fingers. “Fuck’s sake, no’ ‘ere.”
He chuckles, because he knows.
And you confirm it, by getting all agitated in his arms, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling. Your hand curls around the wrist of his offending hand, still ramming deep into your sex.
“Simon, stop –” You croak, slightly pulling back to speak. “M’gonna cum—stop.”
He doesn’t. That’s not the safe word, is it? Say it, and he’ll stop stock still in less than a heartbeat. 
But you won't, right, sweet thing? No, you won’t. Because it feels too good, doesn’t it? 
“Red?” He rumbles, voice low and measured to give you the impression that he still has some semblance of control left.
You cry around his fingers until your brows touch. Tears prickle the corners of your eyes, and maybe, he thinks, you like this. The thought of getting caught. The thought of someone seeing you come for him, shaking and bucking your hips like you’re a fucking cat in heat.
His fingers don’t relent, because that tiny word still hasn’t left your lips.
“Red?” He insists, as he feels your cunt clench impossibly tight each time he speaks. “Answer.”
But you don’t. Instead, you shake your head with a sob, and Simon would bet his fucking right hand that it’s out of pleasure more than anything else.
He chuckles, low and deep. “Dirty fuckin’ slag.”
He’d recognize that fucked out look anywhere. As if you’re struggling to breathe, eyes unfocused and glassy, lustrous lips puckered right above the knuckle. He regrets refusing your kiss, because he's sure they’d look even more delectable after he’s bitten them to bits.
“You like this, uh?” He rasps against your ear. “Wan’ an audience all for ya, yeah? Wan’ the team to pop in to see you like this?”
You shake your head, muffling a cry around his fingers. 
He tuts at you. “Don’t lie to me, love.”
You squirm and moan, sniffling with your nose as tears travel down your temples and into your hairline. You nod, then, because you’re a good sergeant and you follow orders as dutifully as you hand them out—every time.
"Wan' em all to 'ave a wank as you cum 'round my fingers, don't you?" He croons, even if the thought of someone seeing you like this has his blood boiling.
Drool gathers at the corners of your mouth as you buck your hips to intensify the work of his hand. And you nod vigorously, once again, with your eyes rolled back. Heavy puffs leave your nostrils, shallow and quick.
Simon hums a groan deep from his chest. He loves to see you break, loves to see you crack so easily. Doesn’t care if your mouth is quieted by his fingers, because your cunt is so wet it’s making sounds of its own that are enough for his greedy, insatiable ears.
His forearm starts cramping but he'll be damned if he stops, keeping his ring and middle finger inside as he presses them to the front wall of your vagina, while rhythmically dragging them in and out in a dance he knows will make you shatter.
And then you tense, corded neck tilted back. A long, agonizing moan escapes your stuffed mouth, and your walls signal your orgasm before your lips do. You ripple around his fingers, initially making movements hard, if not impossible. He easily overcomes that obstacle and keeps fucking you raw with the help of your come collecting on his palm. You’re so wet he barely has to try.
He looks at your profile on his shoulder. At the fucked out look in your eyes, misty and unfocused. Keenly listens to the moans you're trying to contain, as they turn into wheezing mewls. Feels the vice grip your pulsating cunt has on his fingers, the indents left by your teeth on his other hand.
Fuck it, you're gorgeous.
You come back down from the high with a wet gasp choked by his knuckles. Your nose is stuffy and it’s probably a little hard to breathe—but he’s merciful and takes out his fingers. 
Or, at least, tries. 
Your head lunges forward before he’s fully pulled them out. You gag when the tips touch the back of your throat again.  
Simon’s eyes widen but he doesn’t waste a second.
He resumes the pace that has already made you come, watching with rapt attention how your face doesn’t even look like yours anymore. There’s spit on your lips, and tears down your eyes. He’s already seen you wrecked, folded in half on his bedsheets. But there’s something even more unhinged about having you panting in the common area of a high security military base. It feeds him a great deal of power—you’re doing this for him, you’re putting yourself on the line because of him. 
That, of course, requires a reward. 
“Look at you,” he croaks. “Gimme one more, yeah? One more.”
Your legs squirm and you kick your heels against the sofa in sudden overstimulation, the hold of your hands on his arm turns into a death grip that paints your knuckles white and his flesh red. You could be skinning him alive, and he wouldn’t stop the onslaught on your pussy. 
He can hear you heaving, sees your pebbled nipples brush against the soft cotton of your t-shirt. Your teeth are sinking into his flesh, and he will most likely be sporting bruised bite marks on his fingers for a few days. He rolls his wrist to cause fluctuations in the pressure on your swollen clit and against your walls. Your hips swing together with his hand. He knows where to touch, you know how to guide him—it’s an intimate dance, and it belongs to you two only.
Simon scratches his cheek against your temple to collect the tears that are falling into your hairline.
He flattens the heel of his hand against your clit, which is once again a stiff kink of nerves—he’s shocked by how far he can push you before he wrings you dry. 
Your eyes touch his own, but you’re not even looking. Still unsated, still greedy for more—you love this, don’t you? Too much on your shoulders: responsibilities, a haunting past and an uncertain future. This job gives you very few rewards for the effort you put into it. That’s why you love it, when he brushes away every fear and uncertainty with a simple roll of his hand. 
He starts beckoning his fingers inside of you, teasing and pressing against that one overstimulated spot that has already made you come. The squelching noises coming from your pussy are enough to make his cock leak as he keeps pressing and sliding against your ass.
“Leakin’ like a fuckin’ faucet.” He rasps against your ear.
You moan around his fingers, and it vibrates through his bones. Your eyes are hooded, lushes clumped with tears, and your body is completely abandoned and at his mercy. You trust him to ruin you in the best ways, and he can only comply.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he whispers in your ear. “Could cum just by lookin’ at ya.”
Feeding you this knowledge seems enough to tip you over the edge again.
He wishes he’d taken this to another room like you asked before, because you slip into a second orgasm with a choked “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck!” muffled by his digits that will haunt him forever.
A rushing flood invades his palm, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at the sight. You come spraying liquid, tense and quivering in his arms. The soft grey marl of your sweats first darkens with tiny speckles, and then it blends into a larger spot covering the crotch of your pants.
Breath is caught in your throat, and if he wasn't witnessing the strength of your orgasm firsthand, he'd be dead worried by the look on your face. Pinched and overwhelmed.
"There it is." He murmurs, low and gravelly, "Fuck, tha's a sight. Fuckin' lovely."
He leaves your hole to flutter emptily only to skim the pruny pads of his fingers on your clit to prolong your orgasm, watching mesmerized how your squirt keeps staining the fabric.
It’s impossibly hot and it makes something in his head tick at the sight, almost like a needle puncturing his brain. His cock twitches helplessly as he unconsciously keeps rubbing the swollen head against your plump rear, before an unexpected warmth floods through him and invades each one of his nerves. 
He tastes blood on his tongue for how hard he’s been biting his cheek. 
Fuck.
A ragged breath around his fingers tells him you’ve returned to yourself. You soften against him like a doll prettily placed on his lap. 
"Breathe," he says softly, watching keenly as you come back to your senses. "Slow n' steady, love. Deep breaths. Tha's it."
His fingers slow, guiding you down to earth. Your eyes are hooded, glossy and now apparently sated, blood collected in the apples of your cheeks. You’re looking at him too, now gently suckling on his fingers to keep quiet, nostrils flaring to breathe as he's instructing you.
You’re so beautiful he forgets he has to be a bastard around you, or you’ll come and try to steal the heart you unknowingly already own.
Simon takes his fingers out of your mouth, not without smearing the spit they collected all over your lips first. You pant and smile. And apparently, you don't care that he's wearing the mask, because you lean in and kiss where his lips would be. Just a peck. He can’t fathom giving you more, not now. Not when his head is so confused, thoughts and feelings twisted in an imprecise knot. He simply kisses you back, silently cursing the fabric separating your skin from his, but ultimately doing nothing about it. Then, he helps you stand. 
“Go on, now.” He murmurs, patting your thigh. “S’after curfew.”
You're looking a little out of it. Simon can't help but feel a brief moment of guilt for leaving you to fend for yourself, when your legs look like they're made of jelly and your head still swims in ecstasy.
You wobble to the table, flattening your hands on the faux wood to regain your balance. Head bowed and still panting, your hair falls to frame your face and hides it from his sight. You feel dizzy, blinking your eyes to center yourself. The pleasure ebbs away slowly, languid, like molten lava leaving the crater of a volcano, dripping down your quivering legs scorching hot, until it puddles at your feet.
Differently, Simon doesn’t move from the sofa. A hand comes to adjust his crotch, and he lifts his hips to get into a more comfortable angle. He stays like that, legs spread as the ghost of you still sits in between them. His thumb grazes the fabric of the sweatpants he uses as loungewear, and he looks at you. Bent at the waist, wet, messy and panting—his name is written over you with a big, fat indelible marker. 
You’re his, his, his. No matter what you say, or what he says—you’re his.
Simon’s eyes are dark and heavy with lust and a tinge of anger, and you can feel them like lasers drawing your profile as if he’s carving it into marble. Whichever thought about him was about to bloom, however, is smothered to cinders when you spot the huge wet patch between your thighs.
Your eyes widen and you turn, if possible, even more flushed. Your head snaps upward and to him in a flash. Your eyes are burning, and Simon can’t help but think he’d love for you to scorch him to the bone.
“Y-You fuckin’ bastard.” You point an accusing finger in his direction, walking awkwardly as the sodden cotton of your knickers sticks uncomfortably to your pussy.
“Go on, I said.” He murmurs in his usual, jaded way. “S’late, you’re gonna get caught.”
You’re infuriated. Incensed. He wants to fuck you all over, flatten your tits to that same table, and ram into you while you shower him with curses and come.
“How am I s’posed to walk around like I’ve pissed myself!”
You’re whisper yelling. Smoke is billowing out of your ears. Your eyes turn crimson and you’re growing horns and a pointy tail.
You look beautiful.
But he simply rolls his neck and keeps his big hand draped over his groin. 
“With your legs, love.”
And you stomp to him until you’re standing once again between his thighs.
“I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”
Simon throws back his head onto the top of the couch and looks at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown into a black hole that sucks the light of his brown irises.
“Can’t kill a ghost.”
"Oh, shut your gob with that shit.” You spit with vitriol. 
“Not so smug now, uh?”
You suck in a sharp breath.
“You-you fuckin’ wanker.” You hiss, but the embarrassed stutter makes you look like a puffed up cat more than a viper. “I fuckin’ hate you.”
“Bet you do.”
“I’m a respected sergeant, I can’t go ‘round like I’ve piss-”
“That all?”
You glower at him. If he didn’t know you like the back of his hand, he would cower. Shame for you that he does, and the irate flame in your eyes only makes his hunger grow because he knows how voracious you are when you’re furious. 
“Told ya t’was a punishment, didn’t I?” He deadpans, “Jog on, now.”
Once again, you splutter. It would be such an entertaining sight, one he’d relentlessly tease you for, if he was in the mood. But he isn't, and in fact, he needs you to leave as soon as humanly possible.
You clench your fists, probably ready to strike him right in his mug. Totally deserved it, he’d let you get him straight on the nose. 
But then you huff and strike you don’t, stomping your foot on the floor like an angry child. Cleverly, you decide to put your hands to better use and tug down the hem of your oversized t-shirt instead—trying to cover, as best as you can, the wet patch on the crotch of your pants.
Scowling, you threaten him with a sizzling “I’m gonna make you pay for it, Riley.”
You turn around, marching away with ire in each one of your steps as if the soles of your feet could melt the linoleum of the floors by sheer, angry heat.
“Sure you will.” He murmurs to himself, knowing fully well he’s started a battle he’ll gladly let you win. 
Simon waits for the noise of your steps to disappear before he sinks into the couch with a defeated sigh. Tugging off the balaclava, he runs a sloppy hand across his face. He can still smell you on his fingers and something in his stomach knots.
Wearily, his eyes travel down his torso until they meet the hand covering the crotch of his sweatpants. With his thumb, he traces the purple indents left by your teeth at base of each finger. Tomorrow, he’ll wear them proudly. A weird promise ring, sure. But yours, nonetheless.
He lifts his hand slowly and scowls.
An incriminating stain stares back at him. Untouched, softening cock sensitive to the barest of movements he makes. 
Looks like you’ll meet again tomorrow in the laundry room, first thing in the morning.
907 notes · View notes
delulujuls · 1 year ago
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tinder buddies | ln4
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hi! i have no idea how to comment on that. i've got inspiration from the rumors that are now going on twitter and tiktok about lando and his activity in sm and i thought man, i need to write something in this narrative because sexting with him??? scuse me??? but of course all of this is fiction and and i dont have any statement on the rumors about lan, mostly because all of these are rumors and not facts. anyway, pls leave his poor papaya ass alone and enjoy this instead!
summary: when you met your tinder buddy irl and realize how indeed world is small
warnings: masturbation on cam (both male and female), bit of swearing, in general alott of sexual tention
pairing: fem!journalist!reader x lando norris
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Y/N thought that she was good at what she was doing. She thought that despite her young age she fit in the world of motorsport really well. Sometimes it even crossed her mind that she was no different from her older colleagues, what's more, sometimes she even thought that she was better than them. However, she admitted this only to herself with complete modesty and behind tightly closed doors.
Apart from the fact that Y/N was a really good journalist whose career was growing at a surprising pace, at the end of the day she was just a twenty-two-year-old girl who, like many other twenty-two-year-old girls in the world, had her smaller and bigger sins.
Y/N breathed heavily as she entered her hotel room. She set her suitcase and bag aside, taking off her shoes and plopping down on the bed. It was well after midnight, her flight was delayed by several hours and she was simply exhausted by the passing day. Even though she was excited about the events that awaited her in a few hours, right now she was just tired. However, she knew perfectly well what would help her relax before going to sleep. Not so much what, but who.
The girl unlocked her phone and easily found the Instagram icon, clicking on it and going straight to the messages. She entered the first conversation and was about to write some prosaic message, but she didn't have time to type out half of the sentence when a new message appeared in the chat.
"u up?"
Y/N smiled to herself. It looked like she could count on a pleasant end to the day.
"I was just about to ask you the same thing"
The reply message appeared a moment later.
"i was waiting for you to be available. i thought the evening would be wasted"
"And yet you see, surprise"
The person on the other end smiled and untied the drawstring on his sweatpants. He quickly wrote his answer with one hand.
"wanna call?"
"I think you know the answer"
She smiled and reached for the switch and turned off the light, pressing the camera icon with her other hand.
Y/N and the boy she had been messaging with for a little over a month knew next to nothing about each other. She had a private account and a few photos, he had a black icon and an empty profile. He only knew her name, she only the first letter of his. They met on Tinder, their profiles there looked quite similar. She has a few photos, more of the body than the face, he has the same, mostly in black and white. They had never seen each other's faces, but they knew each other's bodies inside and out.
Y/N placed her phone on the table and leaned it against the lamp, which she turned on a moment later. The light from it was dim, but it illuminated her body enough. The angle her phone was at only showed her from the neck down. She was perfect at maintaining her privacy.
"New background?"
He asked, seeing that the surroundings behind her were different from those he had seen before. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in only a bra and a thin t-shirt.
"I'm away from home"
"Work?"
"Too many questions"
There was quiet laughter on the other side. He liked her temperament. He liked her curves even more and the sounds she made when, at his command, she pushed her fingers inside her and brought herself to orgasm. Yes, he liked that too.
"Yeah, you're right. Strip."
Y/N pulled the t-shirt over her head and her interlocutor saw a red, lace bra that he never seen on her before. He smiled and ran his hand over his crotch. He felt a chill run through him.
"You look good, baby. Red suits you"
She laughed and pushed her hair behind her shoulders.
"Is this the first time you gonna tell me to keep my bra on?"
"For now, yes. I'd love to look at it for a while" he squeezed his cock and began to lightly massage it through the fabric. "You know what to do, dont'cha?"
Y/N bit her lip and lifted her hands, placing them gently on her shoulders. She slowly moved them down her body and when she found her breasts, she slowly started massaging them in circular motions. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, hearing the sigh that came from her phone. He watched her carefully, following her every move.
"Take it off," he said after a while, "It's pretty, but I think I prefer you without it."
She quickly took off her bra and threw it aside. He smiled at the sight of her breasts. Y/N returned to them, continuing their massage. As she lightly pinched her nipples, she moaned softly. His cock vibrated at the sound that came from his headphones. He smiled.
"Does it feel good, baby?"
"Mhm, yeah" she answered, looking again at her phone "But you're playing unfair again. I have to see you too."
He chuckled and shook his head.
"You don't let me enjoy you"
He replied and put down the phone, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. He fell back on the pillows and turned on the light on his phone. Y/N smiled at the sight of the familiar, slightly tanned and toned torso. Her interlocutor didn't see it, but she smiled even more when he tightened his hand on his cock, which was now clearly visible on the gray material of his trousers.
"Take off the rest of your clothes and lie down"
He ordered. Y/N obediently lay down, taking off her pants and underwear. When the rustle of fabric could be heard on the other side, he easily freed himself from his pants and tight, slightly damp boxers. He spat on his hand and spread the saliva over his cock, feeling it tighten under his touch. Fuck, what he would give if instead of his hand it was this tiny hand that disappeared between the pair of thighs he saw on the screen of his phone.
The girl complied with his command and he saw her middle finger slowly sinking inside her, only to come out after a while covered with her juices.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, "You're so wet, baby."
“I wish you were here and licked me clean.”
Y/N said, rubbing her clit. She felt that she wouldn't need much to reach orgasm.
Her interlocutor smiled under his breath, but she wasn't able to see it.
"I'm afraid that i would make you even more wet."
"Someone has quite an ego here"
"I know my capabilities, baby."
She snorted under her breath and made herself more comfortable, inserting her finger into herself again. First one, quite slowly, and soon she added another one. A long moan filled the hotel room as she began to move them, imagining that it was not her but him who was fucking her. And not with his fingers, but with his wet, hard cock.
"Yeah, just like that, baby. Keep going."
His eyes carefully followed the screen and the activities taking place on it. His hand moved smoothly over his cock, his lips were slightly opened. As he was stroking himself, the glass of his watch on his wrist reflected the light from the phone. He wore it every time they cam together. Y/N didn't know anything about watches, so she didn't know what brand it was or whether it was expensive. They never talked about it, honestly, they basically never had a normal chat. However, he once asked her about the tattoo on her forearm, just below the inner bend of her elbow. He noticed it after the first time they met on camera. When it was all over and they were about to hang up and return to their real lives, he asked about it.
"What does 33 mean?"
He asked when the girl started getting dressed.
"What?"
"Tattoo on your arm"
The girl looked at her forearm and only then did she understand what he was asking about.
"I can't tell you because you'll make fun of me"
Hearing this, he smiled. Not because there was probably some stupid story behind it, but because the girl was concerned about not looking bad in front of him. Even though they absolutely didn't know each other.
"I barely know your name, I don't know why I would make fun of you."
Y/N was silent for a moment, glancing at her tattoo and lightly stroking it with her thumb.
"Do you know Formula 1?"
He smiled and nodded. His reaction, however, was beyond her reach.
"I know a thing or two"
"My favorite driver drives with this number. Well, actually he did, now his number is 1. But for me it will still be associated with 33"
The girl explained. She felt a bit embarrassed to expose herself to him, especially with something like this. However, he did not laugh at her or comment on her confession in any negative way.
"I have a friend who is also involved in motorsport and has the same number. Actually, not anymore, because he also had to change it. But for me it will also be associated only with 33"
Y/N smiled at his words. Sometimes she wondered if they could become friends and get to know each other a little better. But then she decided to come down to earth and remind herself that she had no time for relationships or friendships. Now the most important thing for her is work and career, everything else can wait. After all, no one will satisfy her as much as herself. Right?
"Fuck, I could fill you so good, baby," he moaned, gasping for breath. He felt that he was only seconds away from orgasm "You have no idea how much pleasure I would give you."
The girl's lips were opened, her eyelids were shut tightly. She massaged her clit with her left hand and moved the fingers of her right hand inside her in quick, uneven movements.
"I'm about to- I…oh my god-"
“Yes, baby, thats it" he gasped, speeding up "Cum for me.”
She felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. The moment her back arched, she heard a long "fuck" coming from her phone. He came shortly after her, staining his toned abs with his sperm. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back, trying to calm his breathing. There was silence on both sides for a moment, neither of them moving an inch.
After some time, Y/N sat on the bed and reached for a tissue, wiping her hands on it.
"I have to go now. I have a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow."
"Me too. I wanted to let you know that we may not be able to have a call tomorrow."
He answered, also wiping himself.
“It's okay, no big deal,” Y/N replied and took one last look at the muscled, tanned torso visible on her phone screen, “Good night. And good luck with your chores tomorrow.”
“Good night, baby. You too.”
She smiled and reached for her phone, ending the call. Exhausted from the previous day and the evening cam session, she just buried herself in the blanket and shortly after fell asleep. The next day, when her alarm went off, she was full of energy despite several hours of sleep. She couldn't wait for saturday's qualifying and all she was thinking about as she was getting ready was whether she would be able to get good material.
As she put on her red bra, she smiled involuntarily as she remembered last night. She wondered if he had already gotten lost in the whirlwind of his today's duties. Y/N quickly got dressed, gathered her things and, putting her pass around her neck, left the hotel. When she got to the track and was in the paddock, she couldn't think about anything else. Her only thoughts revolved around what was going to happen on the track in a few dozen minutes. However, for a split second she wondered what her tinder buddy actually knew about Formula 1. Maybe they could have something to talk about? Maybe she could even take him to some grand prix?
Her thoughts disappeared when she noticed Lando Norris hanging around the McLaren garage. The girl asked the cameraman to prepare the equipment and she would ask the Brit if he would be willing to have a short conversation. She squeezed the microphone in her hand and without thinking, she approached him, introducing herself and asking if it was possible to record a short conversation.
Hearing her name, his heart did a flip. He knew that name very well.
"Sure, no problem"
He replied with a smile, obviously not revealing himself, and ran his hand through his hair. The glass of the watch strapped to his wrist gleamed in the sunlight. Y/N had seen this watch before. Many times.
The girl smiled back and, hearing his agreement, gave a thumbs up to the cameraman. When she raised her hand, the sleeve of her shirt rolled up, and Lando's eyes involuntarily caught the tattoo on her forearm. A slight 33, just below the bend in the elbow.
He felt a sudden wave of heat wash over him. It's a coincidence, right? It must be.
"How's your mood before qualifying?"
Y/N asked, putting the microphone down and straightening her shirt. As she was arranging her collar, Lando's eyes caught a glimpse of her red bra strap. He smiled to himself and looked down. He wondered how many accidents and coincidences had come together in the universe and resulted in this situation.
"What? Something wrong?"
The girl asked, not knowing what made him react like that.
He shook his head and after a moment looked up again. He looked at the girl carefully. However, she was completely lost and looked at him questioningly.
"Sorry, as you can probably see, my mood is great. I'm positive about today's qualifying."
Y/N tentatively gripped her microphone. When the cameraman approached them, they started recording the footage and she had no time to analyze Lando's strange behavior. In fact, it was possible that this was their first and last conversation ever, so why should she care about it. When they managed to record a short material, Y/N thanked him and wished him successful qualifications. After that everyone went their separate ways.
Immediately after entering the garage, Lando found his phone buried in a pile of his things. He quickly entered his latest conversation on Instagram and, without thinking, decided to send the girl a message. Worst case scenario, he'll just make a fool of himself, which isn't a big deal since they don't know each other at all. At best, he would spend tonight as he had long dreamed of.
"ure even prettier than i thought, baby."
Y/N felt a vibration in her pants pocket and without thinking, she unlocked her phone. She was surprised to see a notification coming from Instagram, and she was even more surprised when she noticed who sent her the message. After reading it, she felt a cold sweat break out on her. However, she decided to think and act soberly.
"How do you know what I look like?"
"turn around"
Lando replied quickly and leaned against the threshold of his garage. The girl clutched her phone in her hands and obeyed his command with her heart beating wildly. Lando smiled at her, holding his still unlocked phone. Y/N felt a lack of saliva in her mouth. It's impossible, it's not really happening.
"Are you sure we're looking at the same person?"
She replied, having difficulty pressing the appropriate keys with her fingers. He was amused by her reaction. This whole situation didn't make sense to him. It was crazy.
"im looking at a pretty neat journalist with a mad bunda who has a tattoo with my friend's racing number. and u?"
Y/N blushed. Fuck. It's him.
"I see that your jumpsuit is a little tight in some places."
Lando snorted under his breath. The girl wasn't lying. The whole situation made quite an impression on him.
Y/N bit her lip and looked up. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't arousing.
"u know exactly why its tight"
"I guess I have to find out in real life. The camera likes to lie."
When she sent the message, she looked up again and their eyes locked. The Brit winked at her and quickly replied, turning on his heel and disappearing into the depths of the garage.
"my driver's room in five minutes. ill be happy to dispel your doubts"
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sweetlyvibe · 1 month ago
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✎ . . . their reaction to you accidentally MATCHING
- 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝖱𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎 ⋆ 𝖠𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗎 𝖬𝗂𝗒𝖺 ⋆ 𝖪𝖾𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖪𝗈𝗓𝗎𝗆𝖾 ⋆ 𝖮𝗂𝗄𝖺𝗐𝖺 𝖳𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗎
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Rintarou walked into the café where you’d agreed to meet, his eyes lazily scanning the crowd until they landed on you. He stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at your outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy—oversized sweatshirt, black joggers, and sneakers—but it looked eerily similar to what he was wearing.
A smirk tugged at his lips as he slid into the seat across from you. “Nice outfit,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Trying to copy me or something?”
You blinked in confusion, looking him up and down before realizing the unintentional match. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t even notice!” you said, your cheeks warming. “This wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”
Rintarou leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Sure it wasn’t,” he teased, resting his chin on his hand. “I mean, I don’t blame you. I do have great taste.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “Well, maybe I’m just naturally stylish, and it happens to overlap with yours.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t be surprised if people start thinking we’re a couple or something.” His teasing smirk softened as he added, “Not that I’d mind.”
Kenma was sitting on his gaming chair, eyes glued to the screen, when you walked into the room wearing a hoodie almost identical to his usual oversized one. He glanced up for a second, then did a double take.
“Is that… my hoodie?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
You looked down at yourself, realizing the similarity but shaking your head. “Nope, it’s mine. But I guess it does look like something you’d wear.”
Kenma’s lips quirked up into a small smile as he paused his game. “It suits you.”
You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh? So, you’re saying you have good taste?”
He shrugged, looking away to hide the faint pink on his cheeks. “I guess.”
Sitting down beside him, you added, “Maybe I’ll start dressing like you all the time. We can be a matching duo.”
Kenma gave a soft chuckle, his shyness peeking through. “As long as you don’t take my actual clothes, I guess I wouldn’t mind.”
Atsumu was leaning against the gym doors, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you. The moment you arrived, his eyes widened slightly as he took in your outfit—a clean, sporty jacket paired with joggers and sneakers that mirrored his own style.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, walking toward you with an exaggerated grin. “Are ya tryin’ to copy me or somethin’?”
You blinked, confused, until you glanced at his outfit and saw the resemblance. “Oh no, this wasn’t on purpose, I promise!” you said, laughing nervously.
Atsumu crossed his arms, pretending to be serious. “Sure it wasn’t. Admit it, Y/n, ya just wanna look as cool as me.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because nothing screams ‘fashion icon’ like your sweatpants,” you teased back.
He laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry, babe. Ya pull it off better than I do anyway.”
His tone was playful, but the way he looked at you—his eyes soft and full of admiration—told you he really meant it.
Tooru spotted you in the stands before the game even started, his eyes immediately locking onto your outfit. The loose-fitting button-up shirt tucked into straight-leg pants looked like something straight out of his wardrobe. He smirked to himself as he jogged over to you during warm-ups.
“Y/n,” he called, leaning casually against the barrier, “are you trying to outshine me with my own style?”
You tilted your head, confused. “What are you talking about?”
He pointed to your outfit, then gestured to his own. “We’re practically twins today.”
You glanced at his clothes, then back at yours, groaning when you realized the unintentional match. “Oh no, I didn’t even notice! I swear this wasn’t planned!”
Tooru laughed, clearly amused. “Don’t worry, I’ll let it slide this time. But you do realize everyone’s going to think you’re my biggest fan, right?”
You rolled your eyes, but he reached out to gently adjust your collar, his tone softening. “Honestly, you look amazing. Maybe we should match more often.”
His teasing grin lingered, but the way his eyes shone with affection made your heart flutter.
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dollhog · 4 months ago
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Huge stuffing! It was insane trying to eat all of that, even for me, but no left overs! I even had ice cream after! Today I think I’ll do another similar stuffing but pair it with a cream shake chug via funnel. That might be what’s getting filmed today. But that 3.5k cream and condensed milk shake recipe is what I’m using unless stated otherwise. My clothes are so outgrown since my last shopping trip that my belly hang is out at all times, and my pants are so damn tight they won’t go over my ass shelf. Not even close to getting any of my pants over my belly hang, the waistband rolls down the second I sit down. I only wear sweatpants and stretchy jeans! I’m literally not fitting in my biggest clothes. So I guess my belly hang is just part of the outfit! 💖🐖💋
Was filming for Patreon last night, only really giving y’all folks over there more backstory on what was going on in my life and discussing the next few videos I have planned. So I’m going to release that tonight. Today I’m gonna film a shake chug video and that will drop tonight also❤️
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