#because my practice works need more flavor

[chimielie]

hold ‘em up (above my heart)

summary: Atsumu x Physical Therapist!F!Reader. the sun rises and sets over and over as your relationship progresses from friends to pro yearners to more.

wc: 4.3k

cw: friends with benefits subplot and all that entails; not explicit, just suggestive, reader is fighting for her LIFE in her brain, atsumu is just chilling (not really)

a/n: hi i didn’t die :3

“Hands up,” you say, voice low so as not to disturb the peace of the morning.

Atsumu raises his arms, elbows bent, making a frame of his face. His blond hair is pale, almost white because his little kitchen window faces east and he wakes before it rises above the upper pane. You sidle past him, back to his front, ignoring the weight of his hand as it settles on your hip while you reach up for the granola you keep in the cabinet next to the fridge.

He likes traditional Japanese breakfasts, the savory and umami flavors of natto and rice and miso. You have a sweet tooth and a craving for crunchy food, like a wild animal that needs to grind down its molars. On the days he has work, he settles for an omelette (or scrambled eggs if he fucks it up). You eat the same thing every morning or you'll be sick.

Growing up, Atsumu was never a morning person, but he sleeps better on the nights you're next to him. He doesn't get angry when you slosh milk over the side of his bowl onto his dining table, doesn't snap when you ask him what his plans for the day are. Maybe this is what being an adult is, these steady waters and calm skies.

You don't speak much as you chew, staring into space and thinking the slow thoughts of the exhausted, and he busies himself scrolling through his group messages and social media accounts.

There's a request from a verified account, a retired athlete-turned-model. He knows her name, has seen her in ads, bumped into her at the last Olympics. He clicks on it.

Hey, handsome. I'll be in Osaka this upcoming weekend - let's get a drink!

"I'm gonna shower," you're patting your hair, looking irritated. It always sticks up in the morning, no matter how you sleep on it, a few particular strands defying gravity.

"You should go to work like that," he says, voice still rough even if his mind's woken up. His accent is thicker in the morning, you've told him, but he can't hear it.

"Hell no," you say. "You're the only one who gets to see this morning glory for now."

"I better be," his grin is roguish, running his hand through his own bird's nest. "C'mon, you gonna let me shower with you or what?"

"No, you'll use up all my nice shampoo again!" You fake running to the bathroom, keeping your pace slow enough for him to wrap his arms around your waist and tackle you down, careful to fold himself so that you land on top of him, body between his legs, face cushioned on his chest.

He leaves his phone face up, forgotten on the table.

He's toweling off his hair, dressed in his practice uniform, while you're packing your bag for the day in the kitchen. His apartment is small, way smaller than some of the other guys' on the team, but he grew up crammed into a room with his mom and his brother. He'd toured one penthouse and decided he couldn't live with all that space strangling him.

He'd tried to get Samu to bunk with him like old times, but his brother had just said I'll sleep three meters from your dirty laundry in hell, and that was the end of the argument.

Besides, he has a lot of car bills to pay. He managed to fold another Mazda last month and you've been carpooling in your ancient Toyota while he waits to get license privileges again ever since.

"You got a text, by the way," you say casually, digging through your purse with your lips twisted to the side. "Aha!" You pull out a tube of lipstick triumphantly. "You should respond before you forget."

"Ah, was it Samu?" He asks, crossing back into the bedroom to put away his damp towel.

"Nah, the model," you call. "Sorry, I read your texts."

You're fighting the growing bitterness of the words, trying to sound jaunty and uncaring and casual. The admission of invading his privacy weighs heavily on your shoulders; you can't make yourself look up into his face when he comes into the kitchen.

"I don't care," he shrugs. "You can read whatever you want."

"You shouldn't say that," you try to laugh and wince instead. He just grunts and picks up the phone, swiping away from the conversation and leaving her on read. "I don't have the right, don't I? I shouldn't have—"

"I really don't care," he cuts across your strained attempt at an apology again.

"You should!" You sound like you're about to stamp your foot at him. He doesn't understand why you're so angry; he doesn't bite. "Aren't you gonna get mad? Shouldn't we be fighting?"

"I don't wanna fight," he rubs his large, calloused hand over your shoulder, your upper trapezius, to cup the back of your and pull you into a loose embrace. You stand, dumbfounded, chin pushed into his shoulder, hands at your sides. "Do you? We can if you want to."

"No," you whisper. "Sorry, I—sorry."

"'S okay," he says, digging his thumbs into the tight knots of muscle. "No big deal. Here, you dropped your thingy."

The thingy is the tube of lipstick, a deep berry color, rolling towards the edge of the table. He steps back and squeezes your cheeks in one hands, prompting you to part your lips slightly. He does it how he knows you do, a soft smear on the lower lip and two dabs made sharp by a swipe of his thumbnail on the outer creases, all blended together at the end for a subtle touch of color.

"You look like a frog about to burp," he says when he's done. You laugh so hard you cry.

On the car ride to work, you keep chewing on your lip. He frowns when he notices, all his work bitten off.

You wait for him to get out of the car first, a holdover from the days when you would wait five minutes so no one would notice that you were coming from the same place. In some ways, it's easier that he crashed his car; so convenient that you volunteered to be his chauffeur. He comes to your side, opens your door. You squint at him, jutting your chin out like you're bracing yourself for something.

"I wasn't gonna go out with her," he tells you, a secret between you, him, and the hard asphalt of the MSBY gym's employee parking lot. "Ain't nobody else seein' this in the mornings either. That's all."

He turns around and strides off, leaving you blinking in the morning light.

"Can you move it?" You say, your brows knit together. Hinata grimaces.

"I can bend it, like this—" he curls the injured finger inward. "But it won't stretch out, like this. Ah!"

You release his hand, where you'd applied pressure to the digit. "It's sprained. You're sitting out the rest of practice."

"Aw, but it really doesn't hurt that bad," he protests. You give him a look. "Okay, okay. Can I least do some running and stuff?"

"Do you want to come to practice tomorrow?" You say evenly. He gives you big brown puppydog eyes and you fold like wet paper. "I'll give you some stretches and exercises for your legs that you probably can't fuck up."

"Yay!" He cheers. "Thank you!" He uses an affectionate diminutive of your name with -chan tacked on the end. You laugh and wave him off, walking out of the main gym area toward your office, where you can print him the exercises.

You lean against your desk while the printer huffs temperamentally, taking a long sip of coffee. You should really stop going over to Atsumu's on weeknights, but you've been telling yourself that for well over a year, and it's a lot more convenient since all your clothes and your toothbrush live at his place.

You tell yourself a lot of things when it comes to your blond coworker.

The door to your office slams open and you make an involuntary, high-pitched noise in the back of your throat, focusing hard on keeping the cardboard cup in your hand from jumping with you.

"Sorry, sorry," Bokuto says, his hair drooping dramatically. "It's just really important—Tsumu's hurt!"

You take an inhale so quickly it hurts and burst your coffee cup all over your coat and work pants. Luckily, you take it mostly milk and sugar, so it doesn't burn you, but you don't even really notice it, just shedding the coat and rolling up your sleeves as you stride out the door without hesitation.

Behind you, Bokuto follows, making garbled promises you hear as through water to buy you a house to make up for startling you and ruining your outfit.

You try to take three deep breaths before you enter the gym, knowing you'll be much more helpful calm rather than battling the wall of panic that threatens to overtake you. Atsumu is blocked from your vision by a crowd of his teammates, fluttering around him like a herd of bumblebees.

Iwaizumi is already there, you see with an exhale of relief, ordering everyone around him to stay calm. You motion to the players around him to give him space, hoping your terror doesn't show untowardly on your face, hoping he can feel your singleminded prayer: please be okay.

"Eh?" He has a dopey expression on his face, dopier than usual, anyway. He says your name gleefully, but you're too busy scanning him for visible blood or bone to respond right away. "Nice shirt. Hey, why's your coat off? Were you taking off your clothes in there? Without me?"

"He collided with Sakusa," Iwaizumi tells you. Atsumu reaches for your hand and you stroke your fingertips lightly over the back of it, along the bones and tendons, each touch saying you'll be okay, it's going to be okay.

I'll make it okay.

"Sakusa's shoulder got banged up, you should probably put him on reserve for a couple days," Iwaizumi says. You glance over at the black-haired spiker, who gives you a thumbs-up though his expression is characteristically flat. "Atsumu, though... he fell pretty hard."

You can see that. There's a bruise blooming along the side of his face, like the sloppy trail of your lipstick after a night out. His ankle is swollen, too; the disorientation of the head injury must have impaired the grace of his landing.

You kneel and shift into clinical mode, receding into the comfortable space of your training. You feel along his leg, asking him over and over does it hurt, can you move this, does it hurt when I do this.

"Okay, doc?" His beautiful honey eyes are unfocused. You want to cry. You want to squeeze his hand tighter, but you don't want to hurt him more. "S all good. I'm fine."

You shake your head, grateful it's not worse. Afraid of what you have to say to him.

"That's right, you'll be fine. But the concussion paired with the ankle injury... I don't think it's a good idea for you to return to practice for a month at least."

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull your hands away from him. He probably doesn't want to be touched. He might hate you for this.

What's the point of sleeping with the doc if I don't get special privileges, you imagine him saying, if you're gonna take my life away from me like this. A month of recovery doesn't sound like so much to other people, but you've been working around these volleyball freaks since high school. You know that it's everything to them.

"Okay," Atsumu simply says. You look at him. "You gonna drive me home?"

"If you don't mind," you say softly.

"Yeah, then it's okay," he says, and scoots around, hissing when he forgets and puts pressure on the injured ankle. He leans back, and you catch his head in your lap.

"I'm gonna break my leg," Barnes says from somewhere behind you. "I want the doc to hold me like that."

You hear a thwack and then Iwaizumi's voice: "Sakusa, stop concussing your teammates. L/N only has so much room in her car."

Atsumu recovers more quickly than you expect. You should have known, though; he's always had a strong ability to heal. He rarely gets sick and though he's brash and reckless and sometimes outright stupid, he's lucky. In almost all the inadvisable endeavors you've seen him pull, he almost never gets hurt.

You're not actually a doctor, not that the team believes that. You've been trying to explain that you're a sports medicine physical therapist for the three years you've been working for MSBY and not once has it deterred anyone from calling you doc.

Atsumu was signed six months after you started, and you had only been friends until a year after that. In all that time, you've been the consummate professional at work, never letting your touches linger, never stretching him too deeply, trying not to stare at him like he's just any other player. When he first propositioned you, you tried not to say yes too quickly, as businesslike as possible.

You went into sports medicine because of your sister. She had been a superstar from the moment she stepped foot on a tennis court; even at a young age you saw that she wielded the racket like it was an extension of herself. As the two of you grew in age, you also saw the ways she overextended herself: the swollen knobs of her knees, hidden under frozen packs of peas, the frequent doctor's visits for hyperextension, the tear tracks when she tore her ACL.

You had spent so much of your childhood waiting for her during practice, doing your homework in the bleachers, fielding questions about her play to the uninitiated relatives who came to support her matches that it felt like the most natural course of action to go into a career field that meant you could help her and others like her chase their dreams.

You had also almost exclusively dated athletes as a result. While you were attending university and chasing your certifications, you had been surrounded by two types of people: students and athletes. You had barely any time in your schedule, much less the ability to align it with a similarly crammed med student. Athletes, on the other hand, didn't have an obsession with comparing your knowledge, liked that you were too busy to monitor them all day long, and loved that you had to attend every one of their games because it was literally your job.

By the time you got the position in Osaka, you were beyond over the routine of dating the people in your care. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't mess around with the team and entered a yearlong celibate streak, which Atsumu blew up into a million pieces and never allowed to recover.

To his (and your) credit, the both of you became close friends before ever crossing the boundary of inappropriate conduct. Just because you were strictly business during work hours didn't mean that you, lonely and shy in a new city, were going to turn down your coworkers' offer to go out after practice. You'd gotten to know Meian well and considered Bokuto to be something of a little brother. Then they had traded a couple of players for Atsumu, and the moment he gripped your hand and slapped your shoulder instead of shaking it or bowing like a normal person, you knew that he was going to mean much more to you than any other of your team.

You had fallen quickly into a deep friendship, and his apartment was much closer to the team's favored bars than yours was, so it was just easier for you to go home and crash on his couch. And his couch was gross, because it belonged to a bachelor who had never heard of a steam cleaner, so one night you insisted on sharing the bed, and you had become good friends who cuddled weekly.

It happened like this:

You were the last two left in the booth that had once contained the extremely compressed bodies of several of the largest men in Japan, probably, but they had practice early the next morning and had trickled out, one by one. Atsumu had his head down on the table while you desperately tried to convince him to come home (already you were referring to his apartment as your home without thinking, though only a spare toothbrush and a coat were kept there at the time).

"Please," you said, "I'm so tired. I'm not even drunk anymore."

"I am," Atsumu said, turning his face toward you. "Very."

"I know," you groaned. "Let's go home."

"I can't," he said despondently.

"Why not?"

"Not with you," his words slurred together. "I gotta problem."

"What?" You suddenly felt very, very sick. Maybe you were more drunk than you'd thought.

"Mhm. I gotta apologize, I think."

Oh, you thought. This is it. He knows.

"I've been having," he hiccuped and turned his face into his arms again so that you couldn't hear the next thing he mumbled.

"I can't hear you like that," you say softly. "Please, Atsumu, you can tell me anything."

You've been seeing someone, and she wants me to stop sleeping over. She wants you to stop being friends with me. You need the apartment to yourself to have her over.

"No," he says, turning back to you again, his eyes glossy with drink, his lips pink and just the slightest bit open. "I have been having manly thoughts about you. Unmanly thoughts. Whatever."

"What do you mean?" You'd asked, heart beating fast.

"I wanna have sex with you," he said, and then slammed his forehead against the table until it left a red mark. "I'm sorry, women! It's wrong to dream about kissing your girl friends, I know!"

You ignored his nonsensical shouting and put your hand under his face so he wouldn't injure it.

"Then let's go home so we can have sex," you said. He whipped his head up so fast you worried for his spinal discs.

"You promise?"

You actually didn't have sex that night because he fell asleep as soon as you coerced him into the bed. The next morning, he'd been hungover and ashamed, stuttering and afraid to look you in the eye. You had given him a handful of painkiller pills and waited until he was washing it down with a glass of green juice before you said "I think about having sex with you, too," so that he spewed it all over the floor.

Maybe it was petty, but you needed vengeance for his forcing you to drag him bodily out of that bar the previous night.

After your first time, he said, awkwardly, something about not being able to commit to a relationship at the moment, something about difficulty expressing his feelings, about being too immature to settle. A script you were as familiar with as the back of your hands. You turned to him, swiping sweaty strands of hair out of your face, glowing with a smile as he stuttered his way through it, and said I know the game. We don't have to talk about it.

He insisted that it wasn't a game, that you deserved transparency and to be treated well, and you rolled over on top of him and kissed him until he forgot his own name.

During the month-long recovery period, you had resumed the friendship you had had in the early months of knowing each other, refusing adamantly to do anything strenuous or even unsportsmanly while you had to work much more closely together than ever before. You insist on sleeping at your own apartment for the first week, afraid of aggravating his injuries further, until he threatens to walk to you with his pillow and sleepover bag. You bring him food near-daily and call his brother when your schedule prevents you from doing so.

He's diligent about doing the exercises and stretches you assign him to bring him back to full functionality. Towards the end of his detention (you pinch him for using such a dramatic word), you start taking walks together, in the evenings on work days and the mornings on days off.

You keep expecting him to ask for space, to push you out of his daily routine, to realize that he's bored because he knows everything about you; there's nothing left to hide. Nothing except the one unspoken thing, the one you're sure he knows but you can't acknowledge.

New growth is beginning to sprout on the trees, grey wood dotted with little specks of bright green. Atsumu walks without a limp, now, his posture straight but relaxed, his hands shoved into his pockets.

His body is healed, but his heart aches. You're wearing casual clothes, big soft pants that billow around your legs and a black shirt with his name in yellow letters, and you look far away, worried. No matter how many times he smooths the pinch between your brows away with his thumb, no matter how many times he asks what's wrong, you refuse him a straight answer.

He wonders if he's pulled you too close, in this month dying of boredom, forbidden from running and setting and anything that could damage his brain. He still gets to see you in the morning, your back arching as you stretch and yawn, the crinkle of your nose when your feet touch the cold floor outside of bed, which is probably slowly draining all the function from his grey matter.

You're wearing gloves, your extremities sensitive to the cold. He takes your left hand, tugs it off. When he tangles your fingers together, you look up at him, questioningly, that knot between your brows back again.

"What, woman, now I can't hold your hand?"

You stop walking. He curses his big, fat mouth. He always chooses the wrong thing to say, always has.

Osamu used to ask him what he was supposed to say to girls. Atsumu, proud big brother that he wanted to be, would puff out his chest and give him paragraphs of advice, and Osamu almost never used it. There were so few opportunities for him to advise Samu, though; he was so self-sufficient, maybe more than Atsumu had ever been. He was more introverted, less brash and crass and rude. Sometimes, when Atsumu ceded his insistence on being the wiser one with six more minutes of life experience, he wished he could be more like his twin.

"Do you love me like that, Atsumu?" You ask, mouth pressed into an unhappy line, already pulling away from him like you were expecting him to say something completely insane. "Because I understood fucking, and being friends with benefits, but I don't know if I get going out for food and holding hands and—"

"Like?" He says, refusing to let your hand slip from his. "I love you. That's it."

"Oh," you say, and your mouth is twisted up like you're searching for something he can't see again, but the crease in your forehead is gone.

"You gonna go out with me?" He says, and it comes out way easier than he ever thought it would, and if choosing the rest of his life is as simple a decision as chasing volleyball and you has been, growing up sounds way better than he thought. "'Cause I wanna do it all with you."

Once Atsumu's allowed to drink again, it's time for the real volleyball season to start, and his diet becomes much stricter and your schedule much longer, but eventually the two of you find yourselves back at the same old bar with the rest of the team.

"You're a scrub with no hope of survival in the zombie apocalypse," sneers Atsumu. This is a common topic of conversation among them; each one vying to be the leader of your hypothetical ragged survivors' team.

"I could win a fight against you with one hand tied behind my back," snits Tomas, who usually is oblivious to Atsumu's provocations but gets a lot feistier when he's drunk, to the setter's delight.

"Please don't," says Bokuto, his hair deflating in fear of his friends fighting.

"Haven't you had enough dick measuring," says Sakusa, holding a mug in front of his face like it'll prevent him from seeing Atsumu's and thus pretending he's not there.

"Have you guys ever done that?" You perk up, looking around. "Isn't that supposed to be a locker room ritual?"

"In high school, maybe," snorts Barnes. "We're way too old for that now."

"Yeah, we're real mature," insists Bokuto, his hair bouncing back up into its familiar two-pronged shape. You’ve long wondered how it does that, but if working with MSBY has taught you anything, it’s that science can’t explain everything.

You nod, taking another sip of your beer.

“So how big is it?” Atsumu addresses Sakusa and you squeeze your eyes shut. You just got him to start attending team bonding nights.

“Small. Leave me alone.” You choke on your drink, spluttering as you make eye contact with Sakusa and the tiny, prideful smirk on his face.

The rest of the team dissolves into laughter.

"What about you?" Hinata, his cheeks rosy, says to Atsumu. Before you can think, your drunken mouth speaks for you.

"You can’t have it, I called dibs!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified. You can’t even begin to think about the rest of your coworker’s reactions. You haven’t even disclosed your relationship yet! Atsumu guffaws.

“I don’t think anyone’s trying to take it from ya, doll.”

[forsakenprogam]

Do y’all know how to draw muscles? because I can’t😭😭😭

Polo’s muscles aren’t that visible because of his shirt…

I hate myself why did I do the poses by memory😭😭😭 but I did have references for muscles tho.

[hederasgarden]

Like Oil and Water

Summary: Your office power struggle with Scott comes to a head. Paring: Scott (Twisters) x F!Scientist!Reader Word Count: 2.1K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Enemies to lovers trope, PIV sex, fingering, and dirty talk. Slight angst.  A/N: The story is based on this ask I received. I know there are like…five Scott fans out there besides me so I hope y’all like this. I have no explanation for this fic except I’m horny for Scott. I had an alternative ending to this story but whoops feelings crept in. Thank you to @ryebecca, @whatblogisthis216 and @a-reader-and-a-writer for looking this over. The snazzy summary is courtesy of @writercole.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day. 

David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

“I’m never picking up your coffee order again,” Javi swears, handing the Starbucks cup to you. “Whatever happened to coffee with a little bit of cream?”

“Capitalism,” you reply, taking a sip. It wasn’t exactly how you liked it, missing that deep caramel flavor, but you appreciate Javi’s effort. “Thanks again.”

He nods, drinking from his cup as you make your way down to the labs, discussing the results from the latest test. 

“We will need to adjust the relays, but other than that, I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “I’ll let the techs know we need those changes made this week.”

“Sounds good. I gotta make a quick call, but I’ll join you after,” Javi promises, disappearing into his office while you make your way down the hall.

You hear the low timber of Scott's voice before you spot him in conversation with one of the female techs. You loathe to admit it but he looks good, his tanned forearms on display with the sleeves of his white company shirt rolled up. The baseball cap tucked into his back pocket and dusty boots let you know he probably came straight from the field. 

"We need to fix the relays. They failed the test. Again. That's unacceptable," he begins, gearing up for another one of his infamous lectures. "Back when I was at MIT, this type of calibration was the first thing we were taught."

Scott may have been one of the smartest guys on Javi’s team but he was also a smug asshole. From the moment you met him, he irritated you, reminding you of every man who thought he was smarter and better than you just because of his gender. Everyone expected engineers to be difficult to work with, but Scott took it to another level. Who could blame you for taking him down a peg or two when you had the chance?

"So you went to MIT. Big whoop," you begin, delighted to see Scott tense up at the sound of your voice. When he turns to face you, the tech is quick to scurry away. "Call me when you have a PhD from a real school, like Caltech, Scotty."

He hates it when you call him that but today it's your jab about MIT that strikes a nerve. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he exhales harshly. God, that angry look in his eye really did something for you. Too bad his looks couldn’t make up for how much of a dick he could be. 

Scott practically spits your first name out, stepping into your space to loom over you. His broad shoulders and muscular build block your view of the lab. You tilt your head to look at him, fighting the urge to smile. "You really should address me as ‘doctor,’" you calmly remind him, tapping your name badge. 

You arch a brow, waiting for his response but his mouth snaps shut, attention moving to something behind you. 

It’s Javi.

"Come on guys," he sighs. "Play nice."

You glance over your shoulder, smiling sweetly. "I'm always nice.”

"Why are you even in the labs today?" Scott questions, glancing down at your heels. 

You smooth a hand down your dress and smile. "I'm the Vice President of R&D for Storm Par. These are my labs. I belong here.”

"Dressed like that?" He scoffs. 

"What, you don't like it?" You ask, turning in a slow circle. 

"We had a meeting with some new investors," Javi supplies, trying to cut off the start of another fight between the two of you. 

Scott turns away and you can practically hear his teeth grinding together. He still hasn’t forgiven you for talking Javi out of letting his uncle invest in the company. It would have been easy money but you never liked the business plan. It was best to stick with government grants and investors without any personal connections. 

Javi touches your arm. “Come on, we gotta finish that grant.”

You hum in agreement, trailing behind him to the doorway. Pausing, you glance back and catch Scott watching you, his lips pressed into a thin line. With a grin, you wiggle your fingers at him, amused to see the furrow in his brow deepen even further.

The rest of your day is blessedly Scott-free and you spend your time buried in meetings and wading through needlessly complicated grant submissions. Javi employed some of the smartest people you’ve ever had the privilege of working with but they were terrible when it came to making the science digestible to investors. You sigh, rubbing your temples. It was going to be a long night.

You work uninterrupted, buried in the complexities of the grant, until Scott storms into your office, slamming the door behind him. “Did you tell the techs they could go home early?” he demands.

“Please, do come in,” you deadpan, setting aside the papers you’re holding.

“Did you send them home?” He repeats, rounding your desk and invading your personal space. At his side, his hands are clenched into fists, the veins in his neck standing out.

“I did.” You rise to your full height but even in heels, he dwarfs you. 

“That wasn’t your call.”

“You do remember my job title, right?”

“I’m VP of Operations,” he reminds you. “I say when they go home, especially when we’re on a deadline.”

“They report to me, and you’ve had them working long hours,” you fire back.

He shakes his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, as he gives you an unimpressed look. “You’re too soft on them. I told Javi you weren’t right for this job. This isn’t academia. We work hard here.” 

You bristle at his words, clenching your fist so tightly that your nails dig into the soft skin of your palm. He has no idea what it took for you to get here, the challenges you faced, or the men like him you had to prove yourself to.

“Go fuck yourself, Scott.” 

You glare up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. You wait, ready for whatever asshole comment is sure to come but he just stares at you. Then, to your surprise, his gaze drops to your mouth. You freeze, electricity zipping up your spine when you realize you’re close enough for your chest to brush his as you exhale. Looking back, you won't remember the impulse that led you to tilt your head and press your lips to his, only that you did.

The kiss only lasts a second before you pull away, heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, neither of you moves, but then suddenly he surges forward, his large hand grasping the side of your face. His lips crash into yours roughly. A hand at your hip urges you back until you bump your desk but he doesn’t stop until he’s practically dragged you on top of it. He presses in close, eating up what little space remains. You groan, grasping at his shirt as you push your hips into his. 

“Fuck,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours as his warm breath fans across your face. For one terrible second, you think he might stop or say something stupid to ruin the moment but then he’s kissing you again. He forces a hand between your bodies and roughly pulls your underwear aside so his fingers can drag through your folds. You’d be shocked by how fast it’s all happening but any higher thought fizzles out once his thumb circles your clit and his tongue breaks the seam of your lips to taste you. 

You’re breathless when he pulls away, back arching in response to his talented fingers. Through your lashes you see him smirk down at you. “No smart comebacks now?” He questions.

Before you can retort he adds a second finger. You moan, rolling your hips to seek more of him. “Knew you’d be fucking greedy,” he whispers.

He watches you fuck yourself on his hand with a hungry glint in his eyes until your pace slows. He glanced at your face. You rise up on your elbows, brow raised. “Am I going to do all the work here?” 

“Shut up,” he growls, withdrawing his fingers.

A witty comeback is on the tip of your tongue but it dies when Scott brings his fingers to his mouth. He stares down at you while he sucks them clean, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your stomach clenches hard at the sight. 

“That’s better,” he comments, unbuckling his belt. “Nice and quiet.” 

He takes a condom from his wallet and rolls it on his thick length. If there was ever a time to stop, it’s now. You look at Scott, his dark gaze swimming with desire and push the thought away, rising up to kiss him. The blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance and you lift your hips. You relish the way he looks, dark hair curling over his sweaty forehead and his body straining for you. Knowing you’ve done this to him sends a rush of want through you. 

Scott pushes inside slowly, hissing as your wet heat envelopes him until he’s halfway in and then he snaps his hips forward unexpectedly. Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush. He falls forward and the weight of him is electrifying. You’d be embarrassed at the desperate little sounds his mouth swallows up if he didn’t feel so damn good. 

He fucks with an intense kind of precision you’ve seen him bring to his work, reaching deep inside you to hit all the right places. You bury your fingers in his dark hair and pull, eliciting a needy moan from the irritatingly talented man above you. 

“You gonna come for me?” He asks, breathless. 

A desperate little, please, slips past your lips without your permission, spurring him on. He hooks a hand under your knee and forces your leg into your chest as he keeps up his frantic pace. The new angle takes him even deeper and pleasure ripples through your stomach. He feels unbelievably good and you practically sob when he pulls back and rises to his full height, afraid he’s going to stop. But he doesn’t, grasping your hips with both hands and forcing you to meet his thrusts. 

You’re tantalizing close and, without thinking, you reach down to help yourself along but Scott is quick to slap your hand away, replacing it with his own. 

“That’s mine,” he growls, the rough pad of his thumb catching on the sensitive skin. He watches with rapt attention as his cock and fingers work in tandem to drive you over the edge. You come with his name on your lips. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he gasps. 

Before you can recover your breath, he leans down and kisses you, his weight pressing you into the desk as his hips move relentlessly. Then he shoves himself deep inside and stills, groaning. Your ears ring and your body buzzes with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. The two of you stay like that, intertwined and panting until, finally, Scott moves. 

Cool air rushes between your bodies and you stare up at him. You can see him thinking in real time, his clever gaze searching your face as he continues to process what happened. What could either of you possibly say after this? Nothing good you realize. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t ruin it.” 

Scott closes his eyes and swallows hard. Then he's moving, slipping out of you with a grunt. He turns away from you, redressing. The clink of his belt buckle is loud in the quiet office. Pressing your fingers to your swollen lips, you take a moment to let yourself feel everything before pushing it aside and standing on unsteady legs.

You fix your appearance the best you can and busy yourself with shuffling the mess of papers strewn everywhere. It might be cowardly, but you keep your gaze fixed on your desk when you hear the door creak open. You wait, the minutes dragging by until you know it’s safe to look up, only to find Scott still there.

He lingers in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you. 

Then you blink and he’s gone. 

♡

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[dollwrites]

ʀᴜᴍ ʀᴜɴɴᴇʀ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ɢᴀʟʟᴀɢʜᴇʀ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!waitress!reader, innocent!reader, dub con, suggested age gap, size kink, thighjob, public play, scent marking. all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act nine [ thigh fucking ]

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“One more rum runner, please.”

“My pleasure, I’ll have that right out.”

Dreamjolt Holstery was abuzz, tables full, a slow and sultry jazz melody practically drifting through the air as a pretty Halovian woman in a sparkling dress tickled the ivories with expert and slender fingers. the atmosphere smelled of spices and mixing cologne. cherry-flavored fog curls up from a boulder-shaped man’s cigar in a corner booth by himself. and you traipse the maze of customers needing tending with the grace and elegance befitting your status as Penacony-born. after all, the Dreamscape was like your second home, and you’d learned how to traverse it with ease. the tourists you pass by, table after table full of awed looks and hushed whispers of wonder at the whimsical land they’re vacationing in, never fail to make you smile. happy that they’re enjoying themselves here.

your dress flutters like wings as you pass the empty service bar. usually, that would be your stop. the bartender would make each order you ask for with care, and when it was done, you’d arrange them neatly upon a tray and distribute them throughout the lounge. a familiar twirling, light-footed dance around tables and through aisles of booths. tonight, however, the service bar was darkened. the tender was not there, and that was because it was closed. all through your shift, you’ve had to squish yourself into the packed crowd waiting for drinks at the main bar.

where Gallagher worked, of course.

your cheeks seem to take on a heat at the simple mention of his name in your thoughts. you thought about the scruffy, smirking bartender. how his baritone rumbles, a hound’s growl in his throat, and the syllables of your name drip from his tongue. it makes you weak in the knees, which is why you much prefer when the service bar is open so you can avoid swooning from one, little smolder.

approaching the bar to find not a stool vacant, and not an inch of space without someone taking it up, you sigh softly, attempting to get Gallagher’s attention from the furthest corner, nearest the employee entrance, by waving your hand, though at first he’s immersed in conversation with his patrons. as much as you hated to interrupt, you had your own customers to take care of. “Gallagher!” you call out, waving your hand again, though you were unsure if you were as dwarfed by the crowd as you felt.

thankfully, however, a sleepy-looking moonstone gaze falls upon you, and he makes his way down to you, picking up an order or two on the way. “Gotta get that service bar up and runnin’,” he says in a lazy drawl, reaching to grab two bottles by the necks off the display rack, “what do you need, girlie?” but he didn’t sound annoyed, or rude. in fact, it was difficult not to focus on the little smirk that inched his lips up.

“One more rum runner,” you reply with a sheepish and apologetic bat of your eyelashes. “Then I promise to leave you alone.”

Gallagher chuckles at that, shaking his head as he plucks the run up with the same hand. “Now, that, I wouldn’t even dream of.” he answers, dumping the ingredients into a cocktail shaker. he seems not to notice the way you shy away from him as he works, afraid to look at the way his muscles bulge against the tight confines of his shirt along his biceps as he shakes up the drink, lest you embarrass yourself by staring. if he did, then he didn’t say anything, already giving his attention to the customer ordering right in front of him.

nervously, you drum your fingers on the bartop, trying to look anywhere else. even as his rough, yet light-hearted chuckle warms the aura. your eyes flit downward, to your own fingers, before they follow a little puddle of translucent, glowing liquid that had probably been spilt as he made a drink earlier, but had yet to be wiped up. then, your eyeline, as if pulled by gravity, jumps to to cocktail glass in front of him, and the reddish orange drink that flooded into it. following the arc of his pour, your gaze crests along the thickness of his knuckles, faint scars you can see peeking out from beneath the leather of his fingerless glove, and the sheer size of his hand. up, up, up your stare crawled. along his tan forearm, branded with more criss-cross scarring and thick, dark hair, to the folds in his shirt, rolled up at the elbow whilst he worked. the sloping mountains of his bicep, and along the broad expanse of his shoulder, before you found yourself doing exactly what you had been trying not to— staring at his handsome face. thankfully, he was preoccupied, and didn’t feel you looking. it gave you more time to admire the little details. the fine lines in the corner of his tired eyes, a testament to his age. the sparsely scattered hair above his lip and on his chin, the deep plunge of his nose from the profile view you were given.

“Gall… agher…” you weren’t even certain you’d said it out loud, but your lips most certainly formed the syllables as you admired him. that was, until you realized the rum runner was finished. instead of handing it to you like he had been doing all night, though, he’d set it on the back counter, where the racks of booze were. had he gotten too distracted by conversation? “Gallagher, the drink—“

but he was already busy, making another. his back was to you as he swaggered down to the opposite end of the bar to fulfill another order.

well, that’s no big deal— he’s super busy, and anyway, you can take a couple more steps to grab a drink. pulling on the divider, the staff entrance opens, and you scurry behind the bar. it takes three steps into Gallagher’s domain to reach your order, but you’ve no time to wrap your fingers around the stem of the glass before you feel his imposing, warm figure at your back.

“Finally,” he murmurs, and you shudder at just how close his mouth is to your ear. he must be leaning down to allow his lips to just brush against the shell of it, his breath hot and heavy against the side of your cheek. it raises goosebumps on your arms, and your hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. his arm stretches out, to place a bottle back into it’s home of the shelf in front of you, but it feels more like a maneuver to box you in against the bar. “Been tryin’ to get you back here all night long, girlie.”

“W—why?” you ask, your eyes flickering down to the other side of the bar. one, powerful hand rests upon it, truly caging you in place. “I should really get this out to my table—“ you’d reached for the drink again, the sensation of him at your back like a thick, sturdy wall that radiates heat making you dizzy.

“In a minute,” he stops you, nuzzling his face against your hair. it takes a moment of burrowing before he reaches your neck, sniffing wildly like a beast who’s taken with the aroma of a fresh kill, before he snorts, allowing his lips to dance along the tender column of your neck. “You wanna know something? I’ve kept my eye on you, and let me tell you… That little dress a’yers been driving me wild all night.” his heavy boots crunches of spilled ice as he plants his feet on either side of yours, pressing his body right up against your back. it was then that you felt a bulge, thick and hard, rubbing against your butt through his trousers. you can’t help the embarrassing half-whine that leaves your lips, or the humiliation that follows when he hears it. “You feel it, don’t you, little girl?” he purrs against your skin, the dull edges of his teeth grazing your flawless skin. “How hard you make me, just by skipping around in that skimpy skirt. Your soft, warm thighs on perfect display for me.” one hand slides off the bar to grip your thigh, and you practically melt into his groping. he can nearly close his large fist around your thigh, his fingers brushing up against your panties. a low, guttural sound rumbles in his throat when he feels how warm your core is, and you can’t help the damp patch that is subsequently formed. “Been wanting to get my hands on ya. Feel you just like this. Make you feel me, too.” his other hand disappears now, too, between his body and yours. moments later, you hear the unbuckling of his belt, the undoing of his fly.

“Gallagher—“ it was hard to think, what with the air around you and him thick with lust, and his heavy breath on your neck, but you still managed to stammer out, “th—the drink will get— watery—“

“I’ll make ya a hundred of ‘em after this if it does, so long as you just hush up for a minute, little girl.” he mutters, and frees his aching cock from it’s confines. slipping it under your skirt, he teased the back of your panties with the tip for moment, trailing hot pecks up your neck and along your jaw bone. “Stay just like this, and let me feel those plush thighs squeeze my cock.” pushing the head of his dick along the curve of your panty line, it’s only a matter of moments before it worms it’s way between your thighs, perching your clothed core atop his length. pushing up on to your toes in order to keep your balance, you gasp and grab the edge of the bartop with both hands, but Gallagher has snaked his hands around you, pressing them both flat against your belly to push your body back against him. “That’s a good girl,” he praises gruffly, his hips rolling forward against you. there’s a little resistance at first, before your arousal and his own precum mingle between your thighs and create a sticky, slick cavity for him to fuck. you glance down, breathless, and watch the way his cock jabs against the ruffles in your skirt when he thrusts, and how the bulge disappears when he recoils. the wet cotton of your panties is harsh on your sensitive cunt as it sits flush against the veiny tool pumping between your thighs. “So soft,” he murmurs, before taking your earlobe between his teeth, tugging ever so slightly. “But you’re soaking wet, girlie. You’re making a mess on yourself. That greedy pussy of yours already wants a turn?”

“A—ah, d-don’t…” you feel your humiliation growing with each word, your cheeks on fire and your body trembling. you weren’t asking him to stop, you couldn’t imagine forming those words. “D—don’t say that, it’s dirty…!”

Gallagher chuckles, but it’s hoarse and forced from his lips. “So shy.” he scoffs, taking the flare of your hip against his palm to move your body back and forth, and match his eager rhythm. “For a little thing pinned to the bar, riding my cock. Clenching her pretty, little thighs while I use ‘em just like a sweet. Little. Pussy.” each word is emphasized by a snap of his hips, ramming his girth forward. every throbbing vein on his cock creates a ridge that you feel as it scrapes against your swollen clit, and you mewl with your lips pursed, your imagination running wild with what it would feel like if he’d decided, instead, to push your panties aside and fuck you properly.

“You already feel too good,” Gallagher growls against your cheek, giving it a tender, little kiss. it was a stark juxtaposition to the way his girth pounded the tight gap between your thighs, but it still made you crumble back into his arms, swooning. “Gonna make me cum quick.”

“W—what?” you blinked, suddenly hyper aware. you try to push yourself back up, but the hold he has on your hip and belly keeps you firmly against his heaving chest as he roughly chases his high. “Wh—where are you—“

“Heh.”

it was a half a chuckle, but it was all Gallagher could form before he was grinding his teeth. hips erratically bucking forward, he changes the angle by taking a half a step forward, nearly pushing you over the bar in the process, and his tip jams itself repeatedly and angrily against your panties, each time shooting a rope of his release that clings to the fabric and threatens to tear them open with the force applied. somehow, the soiled, wet fabric holds some of its integrity, even as he empties his balls on to it, allowing his smell to really seep into the fibers and mix with yours. “Even a mutt knows to mark his territory so others don’t claim it.” he hisses after a long moment of listening to his huffing and puffing as he came on your panties.

“Y—your territory?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

with a few more shakes, using his fist to grip his cock and squeeze the last couple of beads from the softening cock, he takes a step back, giving enough space to be able to tuck it back into his pants without a single patron realizing what was going on. you stumble, once you drop down from your sore toes flat on your feet. the warm, wet feeling of Gallagher’s cum deep in the threads of your panties making your legs feel like jelly.

“Mhm, those warm thighs. Your needy, little cunt. Mine now, ain’t they?” he grins down at you, placing a hand against your lower back to keep you steady so you don’t fall. he doesn’t wait for an answer before he uses his free hand to push the rum runner into yours, and he gives you a little nudge to send you stumbling, blinking and dazed after what just happened, out from behind the bar with a playful taunt. “Now, hurry up. Drink’s gettin’ watery.”

[mobbu-min]

☆ yummy in my tummy ☆

part two

a/n i swear everytime im about to play love and deepspace, the app needs another update. my phone storage can't keep up T0T anyways, i'm not that far in but xavier is my fave. he lowkey reminds me of silver haha. rafayel is a close second tho

includes: all of octavinelle, scarabia + pomefiore

tw mentions of eating disorder

want more? check out part one!

Octavinelle <3

⋆ Perhaps the last dorm that you want to know about your skills. But alas, your heart is vast, so even shady seamen deserves some delicious home cooked meals/treats!

⋆ How about making some extra cash? Is what Azul says after taking a bit. He does mean it. Not only would Monstro Lounge gain some more popularity after news of the Ramshackle Perfect’s home made meals/treats were being served, but he gets to spend time with you without giving his feelings away? A win-win if you asked him. As we all know, Azul does suffer from an eating disorder, as much as he tries to deny it, but somehow your cooking/baking doesn’t upset him at all. If anything, he gets so lost in the flavors that he doesn’t realize that his stomach is full and plate empty. Should he be concerned? Disgusted with himself? Lots of negative emotions begin to swell up, but when he glances at you, fully expecting the worst, he’s met with your proud smile. Happiness practically radiating off your being. And suddenly, Azul doesn’t mind the feeling of a full stomach as long as you look at him like that again.

⋆ Jade finds himself coming to you more often to ask for tips on how to cook mushrooms in different ways. Heck, he even encourages you to come out mushroom hunting with him. He’s fascinated by the way you work, seeing you mix different spices and ingredients together inspires him to do the same. He enjoys getting a glimpse at a third world, your world. It reminds him that the universe is truely a big, fascinating place. He is touched that your first thought was to bring him food, don’t worry he’ll repay the favor.

⋆ Your food is the only thing to get Floyd out of his moods! Once he smells the delicious scent of your meals/sweets, he instantly goes back to being silly and goofy! He will pester the living daylights out of you to make his favorite foods. You will know no peace! Floyd always makes his distaste clear. He’s an honest guy, what can he say? So it’s a big achievement that your food gets the Floyd pass. He will glare at anyone that dares to come near his food. This is his food, not theirs! Floyd’s a good cook himself, so like Jade, if he’s feeling particularly chummy, you might be gifted with his own unique concoction.

Scarabia <3

⋆ Scarabia is known to have the best food in the school! So it was a little jarring when you decided to give them some of your homemade food. But you really have nothing to worry about when it comes to these too.

⋆ You thought you were going to go blind with how bright Kalim's smile was. It truly could rival the sun. Because of the trust between you and Kalim, he devours it within seconds. Practically buzzing in excitement as the flavors touch his tongue. He’s not joking when he says that it’s as good as Jamil’s food. He wants to throw a party where you and Jamil have a cook off! But also just to show off your amazing cooking. You’re going to have to politely tell him that might be too much for you. Or that you only cook for special people! (subtle flirting hehe) And well Kalim is Kalim so it’s like a 50/50 chance that it won’t fly over his head. But in the case that it doesn’t, Kalim gets all warm and flustered. You know how some people get cuteness aggression and just want to squeeze said cuteness, well that’s Kalim. Instantly you're in his arms while he exclaims how much he loves you!

⋆ Jamil gave you the weirdest look, thinking that you wanted something from him. But alas! You did it out of the goodness of your heart. After getting over his initial suspicion, Jamil is incredibly thankful! I get a feeling that between everything that Jamil has to handle, he tends to eat very little most days. Just enough to get him to bedtime. So when you popped out of thin air with food, but not just any food his favorite, Jamil is touched. Though just because he’s touched, that doesn’t mean he won’t critique it! Internally of course, unless you ask. I would like to say that this would lead to cooking dates, but Jamil gives me the impression that he doesn’t like others in the kitchen while he works. Though he’s willing to try it out for you! Omg, if you make him food from the Scalding Sands, he just might tear up (lol, probably not but that’s a funny thought) but he will be incredibly touched!

Pomefiore <3

⋆ A tricky dorm to cook/bake for. A life or death situation! You must satisfy the Queen’s tastes or else you’ll face everlasting sleep! OoooOOoooooOOOoooo

⋆ Your greatest foe, the Queen herself! Does your food satisfy the Queen’s strict diet? ………partially. Listen, Vil holds himself to high regards and keeps a stern eye on his calories and where those calories come from. And while yes, you are going the right path, you also took some side quests on the way. In other words, you were like 74% to getting Vil’s approval. But fear not! For Vil is more than willing to take you under his wing! Though, Vil’s not a chef himself, so he’ll guide you in the ways of his diets. As long as you keep those in mind, Vil finds himself thoroughly enjoying anything you make him. He enjoys foods that are light on the stomach with plenty of nourishment. Vil will oftentimes find himself thinking about your food. His stomach growling in hunger. He appreciates it whenever you show up with homemade snacks. Vil will oftentimes submerge himself in his work, whether that be new roles, schoolwork or guiding his dorm mates, and forget to eat. So knowing that you're always thinking of him and coming to check up on him makes him feel all mushy and gooey inside. Goodness, the effects you have on him.

⋆ C’est délicieux! Anything and everything you give Rook is eaten with fervor. Truly enjoying and savoring every bite! For how could he let anything go to waste? You put your heart and soul into it, it would be wrong not to enjoy it with his own heart and soul. His appetite is never quenched when it comes to your food. He consumes your food with such earnestness that it's hard not to get all flustered. The compliments are never ending when it comes to him. Rook could (and has) write poetry off the delicious taste of your food. Sweet, yet a little off putting. Will jump at any occasion to speak about your food, and by extension you. Eveytime he sees you with a bag or box, Rook is skipping towards you with a little tune to each step.

⋆ Nothing could beat his Meemaw’s apple pie, but Epel supposes that yours come to a close second. Your food is the only thing Vil will turn a blind eye to, which Epel takes as an opportunity to slyly (not really) suggest new recipes for you to try. Honestly, Epel really likes your food! He gets all flustered whenever you pop with food for him. At first he was a little insulted that you made him food, thinking you were insulting his masculinity or something by babying him. But after your very honest words (and a reprimanding from Vil and Leona for making you sad), Epel understands that it was just you trying to show him that you cared for him. I can see Epel going to Jack and asking ‘Is someone giving you food manly?’ and Jack, who happened to overhear Leona telling Ruggie, casually responds with, ‘My mom always makes my dad food, so yeah…” And Epel’s all like, ‘Well damn, if Jack looks like that then his dad must be super macho.’ or something like that. Needless to say, Epel has never hit someone so hard before over food. (rip grim and ace)

[wandascosmic]

whatcha doing with a boy like that? (1)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part one of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 1348

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

“I have a question for you,” Wanda whispers. 

You smile, leaning further over Wanda’s receptionist's desk to hear the question. 

You can see Wanda suppressing a laugh as she says, “Are you going to Jennifer’s cat party on Sunday,” finally breaking as she finishes her sentence.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe how serious she is about her cats.”   

Wanda looks up at you from her chair smiling at you, and you smile back, secretly pulling out a container of mixed berry yogurt from behind the desk and placing it on the elevated edge along with a metal spoon on top of the lid. 

“You made me forget what I came here for,” you say, pointing towards the yogurt. “Special delivery of a mixed berry yogurt for your afternoon snack break.” 

Wanda grins and takes the items from her best friend. 

“You know my favorite flavor of yogurt?” 

“Nah, it was the last one in the fridge.” 

Wanda’s face falls. 

You smile. “I’m kidding,” you say, bringing the smile back to Wanda’s face, “of course I know the same flavor of yogurt you’ve eaten for the past 7 years.” 

Vision doesn’t. Wanda thinks in her head. But that’s fine, he only sees her at the end of the workday, so it makes sense that you would know instead. 

You’re about to ask Wanda what’s wrong since you see her lost in thought, but you’re both suddenly interrupted. 

“Y/N!” Tony, your boss calls out. “Stop giggling with Maximoff and get back to work!”

“Since when did you care about your work Tony?” Nat calls out. 

“Good point,” he responds, walking back into his office.

You turn to look at Wanda giving her an apologetic look. “I should probably get back to work anyways,” you tell her, pointing at your desk over your shoulder. 

Wanda nods, a little deflated on the inside since you’re the only thing that makes her work day more interesting. 

You sigh as you sit down at your desk, picking up your phone to make a few sales calls. 

Wanda does the same, doing her job of answering the ringing phone with ‘Shield Industries this is Wanda’ over, and over, and over again.

You notice Wanda out of the corner of your eye, seeming a bit forlorn compared to before. 

You smirk, knowing exactly what to do to make her feel better. 

“God, damn it!” Sam yells out, growling. “Damn it! Y/N!” 

“Hold on, hold on. Sam, what happened?” Tony asks. 

Sam sighs, putting his head in his hand. 

“She put my stuff in Jell-O again,” he pulls out the plate that has the stapler encased in the lemon dessert. 

And right on cue, Wanda lets out a shocked laugh, her hand going to cover her mouth to suppress her laughter. You smile. 

“That’s real professional. Thanks a lot, Y/N. Tony, do something.” 

You decide to engage in a bit more banter for Wanda. You pull out a Jell-O cup and a plastic spoon from your drawer, opening it to eat the treat. 

“How do you know it was me?” You ask as you lean back in your chair. 

“It’s always you!” Sam snaps.   

Tony sighs. “Alright, the thing about practical jokes is you need to know when to start and when to stop,” you look over at Wanda, sharing a knowing look as she smiles at you. “And Y/N, I think it’s time for you to stop putting Sam’s personal items in Jell-O.

You nod, placing the Jell-O cup down and swallowing the Jell-O that had been in your mouth. “Alright. Sam, I'm sorry, because I have always been your biggest flan,” your mouth quirks up into a smile at your pun. 

You watch Wanda out of the corner of your eye bite down on her fist to stop from laughing. 

Tony snorts. “That was a good one,” he puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You know what, that’s just the way it is around here. Just deal with it, Sam.”

“I’m not gonna deal with it, Tony. It’s damage to company property.” 

“I’ll order a new one, dude. And those staplers are getting old anyways.” 

Sam sighs. “Fine, whatever.” 

Tony leaves to go back to his office.

“Hey, Sam,” you say.  

“What do you want?” 

“You should’ve put me in custardy.” 

Wanda lets out another laugh. 

“Do you like going out at the end of the week for a drink?” You ask Wanda, leaning over her receptionist desk and smiling at her. 

“Yeah,” Wanda replies, looking up at you. 

“Yeah, I mean.” you shrug. “That’s why we’re all going out. You know, so we can have an end-of-the-week drink.” 

“So when are we going out?” she asks, hopeful to have some fun after a while. 

“I don’t know, tonight, hopefully.” 

Suddenly, the creak of the door opening is heard, and you both turn your heads to see Vision walk in. Wanda’s fiance. You pull away from her desk. 

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you reply. 

“Hey, babe,” he says to Wanda. 

“Hi, Vis,” she leans over her desk to kiss him. You look away. “Do you mind if I go out for a drink with my friends from work?” she points to you and the rest of the Shield Industry staff. 

He looks over at you before responding. “Uh, no, no, let’s just go home, Wanda.” 

Wanda frowns but quickly replaces it with a neutral look. “Um, okay. Give me a few minutes though,” she points to the various papers on her desks. “I still need to do my faxes since it’s only 20 past 5.” 

You watch the way her eyebrows are still creased, and you can tell that she had been looking forward to a night out. 

Wanda walks around her desk and smiles at the two of you, heading off towards the fax machine. 

You open and close your fists nervously, turning around to face Wanda’s fiance. “You know what, you should come with us. You know, since we’re all going out, it would be a good chance to see what people are like outside of the office. Who knows, it could be fun,” you tell him. 

He shakes his head. “No, I think we’re good. We’ve gotta get going anyways.”

You nod, “Sure, no worries.” 

You and him stand there for a bit, and you can’t help but break the awkward silence, “What’s in the, um, what’s in the bag?” you point to the black trash bag he has in his right hand. 

He gives you an annoyed look before turning around, “just tell her I'll talk to her later,” he says to you and walks out the door. 

“Got it, no problem.” 

Your co-workers’ plan to go out for drinks has been canceled, and you sit at your desk trying to finish up your sales work as fast as possible. 

“Hey.” 

You swivel around in your chair to face Wanda who has her arms crossed over her baby blue button-up shirt, looking stressed.

“Hey, are you ok?” you reply. 

“Oh, oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she waves her hand. “Weren’t you going out for a drink with everyone?”

“Oh, no, the plans got canceled.” 

She frowns. “I’m sorry that’s a bummer.” 

You chuckle. “No worries, Wanda, I think I’ll be ok.” 

She lets out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry,” she looks around. “Hey, are you, uh, um-” she points towards the door. 

“Walking out?” you supply with a smile. 

She grins. “Yeah, that.” 

“Yes I am, Maximoff. Wanna go together?” 

She purses her lips and nods. 

You start packing up your stuff while Wanda waits for you, but suddenly you both hear an aggressive honk outside. 

You pause to pack up your stuff. “Oh, shoot, Vision.” 

She looks at you apologetically, “yeah, sorry, Y/N. Have a nice weekend!” she tells you before turning around and running off to meet Vision in his car. 

“You too,” you tell her, leaning back in your chair.  

You sigh as you watch the girl you’ve been in love with for 7 years go home to her stupid fiance.

part 2

[chheolie]

"i should buy that diner just to fire that unprofessional attendant."

jealous seungcheol

on that sunny afternoon, you were at your favorite diner, ready to place your order. the delicious aroma of coffee and pastries filled the air, mingling with the soft sound of laughter and conversations in the background. you had been coming to this place for so long that the waiter, minho, was practically a friend.

"hi, minho! how are you today?" you asked, smiling.

minho, a friendly guy with a welcoming smile, replied cheerfully, "hi, y/n! i'm great, and you? what will it be today?"

you thought for a moment, looking at the familiar menu, before deciding, "i'll have that special sandwich, please."

"great choice, as always," minho said, jotting down the order and skillfully starting to prepare it.

it wasn't long before the door of the diner opened, and there was seungcheol, with car keys in one hand and his phone in the other. he had a warm smile on his lips when he saw you, and his eyes sparkled with affection.

as seungcheol approached and stood by your side, minho finished your order and handed it to you with a special smile. "for my favorite customer, we have a surprise today. a complimentary ice cream, your favorite flavor: strawberry."

you widened your eyes in delight. "really? thanks, minho! you're the best!"

seungcheol, beside you, showed a slight look of discomfort but maintained his smile.

with your sandwiches and ice cream in hand, you and seungcheol left the diner, walking side by side. while you were still savoring the ice cream, seungcheol muttered quietly, "favorite customer, huh?"

you smiled at him, happy to have received the strawberry ice cream.

arriving at the car, you noticed that seungcheol didn't open the door as usual. with your hands full holding the to-go packaging with the sandwiches and ice cream, you tried to balance everything and open the car door at the same time. it was a small struggle, but you managed.

seungcheol, watching your struggle "sorry, i forgot," he said, a bit embarrassed.

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help but laugh. inside the car, you offered the ice cream to him. "want some? it's delicious."

seungcheol looked at you and then at the ice cream, still with a grumpy expression. "no, thanks."

you realized he was upset. "what's wrong, seungcheol?"

he mumbled, "nothing."

you insisted, "it's not nothing, seungcheol. i know you. what's going on?"

seungcheol finally let out a sigh. "you were all happy because of that attendant."

you laughed softly, surprised. "oh, is that it? i was happy because i got free ice cream!"

he muttered again, "he even knows your favorite flavor."

you sighed, trying not to laugh more. "it's because i go there almost every day after work. minho is just being nice, seungcheol. nothing more."

"jealous," you said, pinching his cheek teasingly.

he immediately brushed your hand away and denied it, crossing his arms. "i'm not jealous. i just found it suspicious."

you sighed, trying not to laugh more. "seungcheol, there's nothing. minho is just nice, he does that with regular customers."

seungcheol looked at you, his expression still hard. "i saw the way the he looked at you."

you couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. "you're overreacting."

he grumbled, even more grumpily. "i'm not overreacting."

you laughed again, the whole situation seemed so absurd. seungcheol, still with a serious face, mumbled quietly, almost inaudibly, "i should buy that diner just to fire that unprofessional attendant."

this made you laugh even more. "really, seungcheol? buy the diner just to fire minho?"

he kept his eyes on the road ahead, not cracking a smile. "yes. he's a very unprofessional."

you sighed, still smiling. "you're unbelievable. minho isn't a threat. and besides, i only have eyes for you."

the light-hearted argument continued the whole ride. when your boyfriend parked the car, you said, "you really don't need to be jealous because of an ice cream," holding the bag with the sandwiches and ice cream, trying to lighten the mood.

"it's not just the ice cream," he grumbled, closing the car door more forcefully than necessary. "it's the way he looks at you." he took the bag from your hand and strode ahead.

"he doesn't look at me in any way," you laughed, following seungcheol through the parking lot. "you're imagining things."

"i'm not," he grumbled again, looking straight ahead, avoiding your gaze.

arriving at the apartment, as he opened the door, you hugged him from behind, resting your head on his back. "seungcheol, i can't stand being avoided by you," you said softly, feeling the tension in his body.

he stayed quiet for a moment, resisting your touch, but then sighed, slowly turning to face you. "y/n, you're only mine," he finally said, looking into your eyes. "i could give you all the ice cream you wanted. you don't need another man for that."

you smiled, touching his face tenderly. "i know that, silly. and i only want you. no matter how much ice cream i get, you're the only one who matters to me."

seungcheol finally relaxed, pulling you into a tight hug. "i just hate seeing other guys make you smile," he murmured against your hair.

"it's okay," you whispered back, feeling safe in his arms. "i love you."

"and i love you more," he replied, holding you tight, as if he'd never let go.

[kittyit]

one of the very offputting and indigestible things about a lot of modern media is the pivot to the quality being the same experience as reading fanfiction. I've only read a little fanfiction in my life, and of course, there are always stand outs in fan works. But I feel everyone can know what I mean when I say it's like reading fanfiction. And I feel like it's a spectrum. For example, right now I'm rereading Hench, and I would say there is a distinctly fanfiction flavor to the work, in that I can tell the author has read a lot of fanfiction, I can clearly guess at some of their favorite tags and tropes, the taste of fanfiction is in my mouth. However, the work itself is compelling enough, the characters flushed out an interesting enough, and the story inviting enough that I am able to bear it with grace. This is like the middle of the spectrum. The far end of the spectrum is when reading a book is exactly like reading a fanfiction (term for this? If the other is flavor...) It's all trope. it's cheap and unearned. It's shallow. It's enjoyable mostly to people who read a lot of fanfiction because it does exactly the same thing. Fanfiction flavored is sometimes tolerable to me, but I resent it, especially when the tropes are paraphilias and fetishes in disguise, but not only then. It's distasteful. And more and more new books and TV series and movies are further and further on the spectrum of how much like fanfiction they feel, how clearly they are made by creators who grew up in fandom, "living and breathing fandom". And because fanfiction-adjacent creations are stripped down to the most appealing and easily accessible plot points and paths, characters & emotions for a fandom-steeped or fandom-ready (innocent) audience, they sell well, they test well with test audiences, they make money. I just routinely see the idea that fandom is basically a free space, it's not hurting anyone everyone's having fun, why do we need to be critical of this? And it's like well it's profoundly transforming the entertainment industry, which profoundly transforms what media people grow up on which is certainly something worth thinking about. And media literacy is a term that's now reached internet driven semantic satiation and become a meme. Instead of something that is important to moving through the world and a practice you can develop your entire life. And I hate how defensive everyone gets about this. I have no power to take away your fandom. I just want think critically and deeply about this like any other social phenomenon.

[hyuckswoman]

“I’m shitting my pants” mark says to his best friend. they were currently standing outside of the music classroom awaiting the final class where they’ll have to present the project each group was working on

“really? you’ve never been one to stress over music class I’m sure you won’t fuck up” haechan replies chewing on the cherry-flavored gum he got handed during his last class

“no dude I’m talking about y/n. seeing her is *sigh* let’s just go okay?” he says to which haechan nods

“don’t worry you won’t have to talk for now” haechan says entering the class. he then proceeded to sit down next to you while mark sat right behind the both of you

“you ready?” hyuck asks turning to you “no? i don’t know? i’m nervous” you reply. playing in front of people was never your thing. you just hoped to pass this class because this class is not worth retaking the semester.

two groups passed and you only got progressively more anxious, people had practiced. they were ready. while you never practiced with both your partners, none of you did. either having alone practicing sessions or some with hyuck. you don’t know if you’re on the same wavelength, you don’t know how you guys will even sound all together. If you were being honest this was partly your fault. your pride and feelings got in the way. But you also knew that no sessions would’ve been productive had you trained with mark. You knew that you would’ve nitpicked every single thing he would do and would make sure that your pettiness and anger could be felt. So either way this couldn’t have been avoided. You just hoped that whatever terrible outcome was about to be unleashed to the rest of the music class, in just about a minute now, would be enough to get a passing grade.

sitting down, plugging your electric guitar, making eye contact with haechan - the subconsciously assigned new leader of the group seeing as though he was the middle ground in between you and mark- waiting for him to give you the go and then you started playing. And exactly 2 minutes and forty four seconds later, haechan mark and you were done performing 200 in front of your class. Immediately looking up at your professor’s face only to see a wide grin and a pleased head nod directed towards mark. Of course. This was a collective grade. you had mark in your group. how could you even for a second worry about getting a passing grade.

sighing out of relief you sat down next to wonyoung who called you over while you were walking towards your original seat “girl, maybe staying in a group with these two wasn’t such a bad idea after all.. you outshined the rest of the class I’m sad for the people going after you” she says “really? you didn’t think it was messy?” you ask. anyone could tell how uncoordinated you guys were. “not really no, sometimes it sounded like a bit.. i don’t know- like you guys haven’t practiced enough? but i assure you it was barely noticeable” she says as you sigh out of relief again “and by the way you and yujin were craaaaazy i got so hyped up” you say complimenting the both of them while they thank you. being so engrossed into the conversation you almost miss haechan calling you over telling you that you need to regain your seat because “professor said so.”

So after briefly nodding at them, you tiptoed around the classroom to sit next to your friend, once again. “ i lied by the way. the teacher didn’t say shit he’s still in his ‘mark haze’. i just wanted you to sit next to me” haechan says as you laugh at his absurdity. man you were going to miss sharing a class with him.

Some time later all the groups had passed and even though he wasn’t allowed to, the teacher assured every student that they had all passed his class. He really wasn’t allowed to say this but the minute mark asked he told the class. You weren’t complaining tho. Maybe you even understood him a little.

Getting out of the classroom after the teacher dismissed you, you felt yourself engulfed in a hug “are you less stressed out now? I know you worried about getting a passing grade but we did it!!!” haechan said while letting go of you “yea dude! I’m lowkey glad this is over.. I’ll miss sharing a class with you tho” you say back “should we go out to celebrate?” you hear mark say. For a second you genuinely forgot he was there. In your defense, he was standing on the side not making any noise so he was fairly easy to forget about.

You could feel his awkwardness radiating off of him and almost felt bad. In truth you forgave him a long time ago (that’s kind of a lie). You understood how whatever mental headspace he was in was turning him into an asshole and as the patient lenient girl you were, you couldn’t pretend to not understand. But you still decided to milk the anger because you knew you were patient (especially with mark). The way he spoke to you does not deserve your understanding. He needed to practically beg on his knees for you to even crack a smile at him. And you were making sure he understood that.

“I think I’m good actually! you guys go ahead tho” you reply. “cmonnnn, it won’t be fun without you, do you know how long it has been since the three of us hung out together?” haechan says grabbing the sleeve of your shirt throwing himself onto you “i wonder why it’s been so long” you say in a fake pensive state that made haechan laugh and mark scratch the back of his neck out of uneasiness. “well don’t involve me in your business, I didn’t do shit and I just want to hang out with my two friends.. I don’t see why I need to suffer the consequences of this” haechan says slightly laughing “oh right because you texting me about it repeatedly was not you being involved in said business?”you reply “touché. still tho, please?” haechan says (he then proceeds to threaten you, then almost gets on his knees to beg, so you agree)

after what felt like the most awkward lunch ever you guys stepped out of the restaurant in silence. not for long tho….cause yk….haechan. “I’ll get going guys, have fun” haechan says aggresively winking at mark trying to be discreet. you could see the whole thing but whatever. “I’ll get going too. bye!!” you say and before you could even turn around to leave haechan desperately yelled “NO- wait. i mean. mark wanted to say something i think” hyuck says still winking at mark but now pointing to the both of you with his chin trying to convey a message to mark that he seemingly did not get

“huh?? oh OH! yes i was gonna ask if we could talk?” mark asks you “nah, im good. bye!!” you say turning around and walking away soon after you heard someone run after you and grab your arm “wait. look, I know what he did was shitty and I know he doesn’t deserve your understanding but please hear him out? Like you guys were so close before don’t you think the friendship is worth salvaging?” haechan says still holding onto your arm “hyuck i sigh i don’t know okay? would it not be pathetic of me to hear him out when he shut me down so harshly last time i tried to communicate?” you ask. no matter how much you liked the man you needed to set standards up for yourself, you deserved respect. How are people meant to respect you if you don’t respect yourself? “i get that. truly. but please hear him out? you literally won’t ever have to face him afterwards” hyuck says while you nod and walk back to where mark was standing.

“should we go to my place to talk?” you say. you weren’t going to have this conversation in public that is for sure “my place is right there. it would save us the walk i guess but we can also go to yours if you prefer” mark says to which you shake your head telling him his place was fine.

Entering mark’s studio for the first time, the place really suited him. From the few art piece he used to decorate his wall to his keyboard in the corner of his room right next to his messy desk and even messier bed, hell even the dishes were mark coded.

“man I’m sorry, I forgot i hadn’t cleaned…. we should’ve gone to your place this is not how you visiting my studio for the first time was supposed to go” he says and you shake your head. he guided you to his small couch in his living room. as you sat down you saw in the corner of the room this pretty bouquet of lilies, man what bitch did he have over?? you knew damn well mark doesn’t buy flowers for himself so those were a gift. You guessed it wasn’t from any of his friends because they would never. These had to be from yunjin. The moment you realized it, you swore you built up a little more resentment.

“I’m sorry.” mark says handing you a glass of water; he was gonna go straight into it i guess. “i know. you’ve been saying that for the past week. I’m just here because I want to know why” you reply. “I- okay fine. I owe it to you, just, please don’t make fun of me okay?” mark says fidgeting with his fingers as you nod. “Things were going really great and I really enjoyed spending time with you and getting to know you and texting you and stuff and so because i liked you- too much I think, I had this huge slap of reality in the face like man okay this is going great but you’re going to fuck it up and then she’ll find you weird and never talk to you ever again and then you’ll be miserable because you’re such a loser. So it became a lot and I got anxious and I was like ‘I’m not gonna fuck it up if I speak less’ and that speaking less… well… it turned into me ghosting you. Then I realized and I felt guilty but I couldn’t just talk to you normally after ghosting you for days and then you sent me the texts and I was so frustrated at myself so I took it out on you. And i felt bad like I knew what I was doing was wrong but I was just in too deep and then donghyuck texted me and I was also mean but anyway. I’m not trying to make excuses for myself I just want to explain everything to you. I’m really really sorry tho” mark says not having enough courage to look at you.

“you like me?” you say. You admit everything he said after was kind of a blur “no i mean yea but I ugh I didn’t want to tell you like this or at all man I’m so sorry I’m so stupid” mark replies clearly frustrated. “ you can’t do this to me mark” you reply “I know I’m sorry I didn’t mean for it to come out I’m sorry” he says “this is fucked man, you flirt with me, ghost me and all of that because you like me??” you say to mark as he nods you burst out laughing. mark is very confused tho. “I feel…so conflicted right now man I can’t tell if I want to kiss you or punch you in the face. Was it not obvious I liked you?? If you liked me that bad couldn’t you have just confessed?? man you had me stressed for weeks im” you say laughing because what the fuck man

“you like me?” mark asks “yes. man I’ve been liking you for so long this is so ridiculous.. I used to have a hallway crush on you that’s why I stared at you during the first music class… and then when we became closer I started liking you… like deadass. when you replied to chenle ‘ew’ I wanted to kill myself” you say as mark gasps “THAT’S WHY?? I genuinely believed your lie woah.. also man I wanted to kill chenle because shut up like mind your business don’t air mine out on twitter like this” mark replies laughing. “what about yunjin tho?” you ask “what about her?” he says. “well isn’t there some sort of thing going on between you and her?? the bouquet right there screams everything but platonic” you reply “what?? no I don’t like her I like you. matter of fact the bouquet is for you I was going to give it to you after music class but pussied out and left it home before since I wasn’t sure if you hated me or not” mark says getting up to fetch the bouquet for you. “oh. thanks. they’re really pretty. They’re my favorite flowers did you know?? Also I can’t believe you like me.. that’s crazy. I’m still pissed at you lowkey” you say. “Yea we talked about it when you gave me my bouquet.. also you really didn’t know? I mean who do you think 200 is about? I thought you would get it” he says laughing. you hit him (not harshly of course) because how dare he imply that you’re slow??

“despite you being mad at me… will you let me be your boyfriend? I’ll beg if I have to” mark asks “i guess… you’ll have to do some serious groveling tho… I don’t want my friends to know I forgave you so easily” you reply “man you’re harsh.. I guess?? be a little more enthusiastic you have a boyfriend now. also yea your friends are scary, especially renjun I got so startled like… this is not the renjun I met” your boyfriend says laughing. “I’M HARSH???? sorry I didn’t want to jump up and down, i already know I’m dramatic don’t want to hear it again” you reply to which mark says touché.

“Can I kiss you?” your boyfriend asks “of course you’d be a dork about it” you reply laughing at him. he quickly shut you up. You were partly shocked because one, you were kissing the man you’re extremely down bad for and two, you didn’t think he had it in him to shut you up with a kiss. Feeling his smile against your lips he pulled away “didn’t think I’d do that did you?” he asked. you didn’t have the words so you shook your head no. What the fuck happened to dorcus lee? And before you could remove his hand that had been grabbing your chin, mark leaned in again to steal another kiss. you swore you felt lightheaded. Not enough to let him away with it tho. So you put each one of your arms around his shoulders, leaned closer and deepened the kiss.

And maybe, just maybe you guys ended up kissing for a while afterward….only maybe though!!

51. it's over

previous chapter masterlist bonus chapter 1

notes: guys... this is officially the end of an era... I'm literally so sad to see it go I'll miss uploading sooooooo much. I want to sincerely thank everyone who took the time to read this story and even more if you took the time to interact with it. I hope the end is satisfactory enough for you guys and I hope that you enjoyed the ride as much as I did. Thank you again, this has been nothing but fun!! I'll miss down bad very much! happy read!!!!!!

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[cosmiclily]

.ᐟ chapter six: can you figure me out?

wc: 2.1k

cw: swearing, talk about sex (?)

I was in a terrible, horrible mood. I’d just had the shittiest day of the year—everything that could go wrong, did. And now, to top it all off, I couldn’t even sleep because my stupid fucking roommate was having the loudest sex of her life. It felt like they were doing it in my room.

The girl’s moans were clear as day, cutting through the walls as if they weren’t even there. I shoved a pillow over my head, trying to drown out the noise, but it didn’t help. The frustration boiling in my chest was so intense that, for once, the fact that Vi was having sex didn’t even bother me—not in the way it usually did, anyway. No, I was too mad about my lack of sleep to feel anything else.

Who the fuck does she think she is? I fumed silently, clutching the pillow tighter. Does she think she owns the apartment? That the rest of us don’t need a little thing called peace and quiet?

I stared up at the ceiling, my fists clenched under the blankets. Today had been a disaster—work was hell, the coffee machine broke before i had any coffee, and I’d managed to embarrass myself in front of my boss. All I wanted was to come home, collapse into bed, and sleep off the day. But no. Apparently, Vi and her flavor of the week had other plans.

It wasn’t just the noise—it was the audacity. The complete disregard for anyone else in the apartment. For me. I could practically feel the anger coursing through my veins, making my already pounding headache even worse.

I shot a glance at the clock on my nightstand: 2:37 a.m. Are you kidding me?

Another high-pitched moan echoed through the wall, and something in me snapped. I sat up, the blankets pooling around me, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I didn’t know what I was going to do—march over there and bang on her door? Scream into the void? Move out and leave her a passive-aggressive note about apartment etiquette? All three options sounded equally tempting.

But instead, I just sat there, breathing heavily, my hands clenched into fists. My mind raced with anger, frustration, and the exhaustion of a day that had been far too long.

And yet, under all of that rage, there was something else. A flicker of something I didn’t want to acknowledge. Something that had nothing to do with sleep or noise or the shitty day I’d had. Something that had everything to do with the fact that Vi was in there with someone else.

I shoved that thought down as quickly as it surfaced, burying it under my frustration. No. Not tonight. Tonight, I was just mad. Just tired. That’s all.

But as another burst of laughter and muffled voices spilled through the wall, I felt my anger boil over. Before I could even have a coherent thought, I was already out of my room, banging on Vi’s door like a lunatic.

“Hello!” I shouted, not caring if I sounded unhinged. “There are other people in this apartment who need SLEEP!” And for a moment, there was blessed silence. The noises stopped—no laughter, no moans—just dead, suffocating quiet.

I could hear heavy footsteps moving towards the door, each one more threatening than the last. When the door swung open, it wasn’t the random girl who greeted me—it was Vi. And she looked pissed.

“Oh, so now I’m worth your time?” she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm and anger as she glared at me from the doorway. She was standing there in an old t-shirt, hair messy, her usual confidence dialed up to ten as she leaned against the frame, arms crossed like she was ready for a fight.

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Excuse me? I’m trying to sleep, and you’re—”

“No, excuse me,” she interrupted, stepping forward slightly, her eyes burning into mine. “For the past two weeks, you’ve been avoiding me for no fucking reason. Blowing me off, dodging my texts, acting like I don’t even exist. But now, suddenly, you’re banging on my door at two in the morning? Spare me.”

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit, but I was too angry to back down. “Yeah, because you and your latest fuck-toy are treating this apartment like a damn nightclub! Some of us have responsibilities, Violet. Some of us have actual shit to deal with in the morning!”

Her jaw clenched, and for a second, I thought she might yell back. But instead, she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Right. Got it. I’m just the irresponsible roommate who’s ruining your life.”

“That’s not what I—” I started, but she cut me off again.

“No, it’s fine. You’ve made it pretty clear where we stand, haven’t you? You can’t even look at me anymore, let alone talk to me. So, you know what? Go back to avoiding me, Y/N. I’ll make sure I’m quiet so I don’t disturb your precious little bubble.” Her voice dripped with venom, but behind it, there was something else—something that sounded a lot like hurt.

I opened my mouth to respond, to defend myself, to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. She stared at me for another moment, her chest rising and falling like she was trying to keep her anger in check. Then, without waiting for a reply, she slammed the door in my face.

I stood there in the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a mix of guilt, frustration, and something heavier that I couldn’t quite name.

Was she right? Had I been avoiding her so much that I hadn’t even noticed what I was doing to her?

As I trudged back to my room, the apartment felt colder, emptier somehow. The silence that I’d wanted so badly felt suffocating now, and I couldn’t shake the look in her eyes before she shut the door. It wasn’t just anger. It was pain.

I flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, and let out a long, shaky breath. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. None of it was. But now, I had no idea how to fix it—or if I even could.

──────────────────────

jinx💙

we need to talk

you

?? why are you being so serious

what did i do

jinx 💙

you know what you did, meet me at the campus coffee shop @6pm

you

ok

As I made my way to the coffee shop, my mind kept racing, stuck on Jinx’s cryptic text. She rarely *ever* asked to meet up like this, especially not with such an oddly serious tone. Normally, her texts were chaotic, full of emojis, but this one was straightforward, almost... ominous.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I had no doubt it was about my so-called *brilliant plan.* Of course, Jinx had been skeptical from the start. She made her feelings about my avoidance strategy abundantly clear—loudly and with a side of judgment. But why now? Why was she suddenly being so serious about it?

I replayed the last conversation we’d had in my head, the one where she called me out for acting like a complete idiot. She’d said things like, “This is only going to blow up in your face,” and “You’re miserable, just TALK to her already!” At the time, I’d brushed it off, unwilling to admit that she might be right. But now, with this sudden meeting hanging over my head, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew something I didn’t.

When I finally reached the coffee shop, I spotted her immediately. She was sitting at our usual table near the window, sipping on what looked like a hot chocolate, her knee bouncing anxiously under the table. Her blue hair was pulled into two messy buns, and her expression was uncharacteristically serious as she stared out the window.

The moment I walked in, her eyes snapped to mine, and she waved me over. “Finally!” she exclaimed as I approached. “I was starting to think you bailed.”

“Yeah, well, your text kind of freaked me out,” I admitted, sliding into the seat across from her. “What’s this about, Jinx? You’re being... weird.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and fixed me with a look that was both annoyed and concerned. “Okay, I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” she said, her voice lower than usual. “Your plan? The whole ‘avoid Vi until your feelings magically disappear’ thing? It’s bullshit.”

I blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Wow, thanks for the insight, Captain Obvious,” I muttered, leaning back in my chair. “What else is new?”

“No, you don’t get it,” she pressed, her tone sharp. “It’s not working. Like, on a catastrophic level.”

I frowned, sitting up straighter. “What are you talking about?”

Jinx sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Vi’s been asking me about you,” she said finally. “A lot. It’s annoying, actually. She thinks you’re mad at her or that she did something wrong, but she doesn’t know what it is. And honestly? She’s hurt, Y/N. She’s really fucking hurt.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

“She told me she misses you,” Jinx continued, her eyes searching mine. “Like, *really* misses you. And she doesn’t understand why you’re pulling away. She’s convinced it’s her fault.”

Guilt twisted in my stomach, and I looked down at the table, unable to meet her gaze. “I didn’t mean for her to think that,” I mumbled.

“Well, congratulations, because that’s exactly what she thinks,” Jinx said, leaning back in her chair with a huff. “Look, I get that you’re trying to protect yourself or whatever, but this whole avoidance thing? It’s not just hurting you. It’s hurting her too.”

“So what do I do?” I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jinx gave me a small, almost sad smile. “You talk to her,” she said simply. “You tell her the truth. About everything. I know you’re scared—scared of losing her or ruining your friendship—but at the pace things are going, there won’t be a friendship left to save.”

Her words were sharp, cutting through the layers of excuses I’d been hiding behind. I opened my mouth to argue, to come up with some kind of defense, but she held up a hand, stopping me.

“Look,” she continued, her voice softening, “I know my sister. She likes to plaster on that tough look, act like nothing gets to her, like she doesn’t care about anything. But trust me, she cares. And right now? I’m worried about her. She’s not herself, Y/N.”

I frowned, leaning forward slightly. “What do you mean?”

Jinx sighed, running a hand through her hair. “She’s... distracted. Off her game. You know how Vi usually is—confident, quick to brush things off? Lately, she’s been... different. Quieter. Like she’s overthinking everything. And I know it’s because of you.”

“Me?” I said, my voice cracking slightly.

“Yes, you!” Jinx said, exasperated. “You’re one of the most important people in her life, and she feels like she’s losing you. Do you have any idea how much that’s messing with her?”

I sat back in my chair, her words hitting me like a ton of bricks. Vi was *hurting* because of me. All this time, I thought I was the only one struggling, that I was the only one dealing with the fallout of my feelings. But I hadn’t considered how my actions—my distance, my avoidance—might be affecting her.

“I didn’t mean to make her feel like that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I know you didn’t,” Jinx said gently. “But intentions don’t matter if the outcome still hurts, you know?” She leaned forward, her blue eyes locking onto mine. “You’ve gotta fix this, Y/N. And not with some half-baked apology or vague excuse. You need to be honest—with her and with yourself.”

The thought of laying everything bare, of telling Vi the truth about my feelings, sent a wave of panic crashing over me. But Jinx was right. If I didn’t do something soon, I was going to lose her anyway.

“Okay,” I said finally, my voice shaky but resolute. “I’ll talk to her.”

Jinx’s expression softened into a small smile. “Good. And Y/N? Don’t wait too long, okay? Vi might be tough, but even she has her limits.”

I nodded, my stomach twisting with nerves. This was it. No more running, no more hiding. It was time to face the truth, no matter how terrifying it was.

──────────────────────

chapters

notes: oohh the girls are fighting, will y/n finally confess?

i feel like jinx in this au is the typical younger sibling that chased vi with a knife but won’t let anyone else hurt her

[simonisferal]

you said you liked it — scaramouche x gn! reader

synopsis: he doesn't even like you that much. wait...he does. fuck.

warnings: just pure fluff, scara being scara, mutual pinning / not an established relationship, inspired by apple cider by beabodoobee (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

notes: a little shorter than I wanted it to be but i was sleepy / i started playing my sleep playlist and i woke up instantly to write this 🫡 / not proofread but then again none of my works are so

you said you liked chocolates. scaramouche was never a sweets person anyways!

whatever you liked, whether it was plain chocolates or some fancy, expensive ones, he managed to bring them to your hands every few occasions. they were always wrapped in a soft lace, delicately delivered straight to you (he tried to ignore every other person that attempted to speak to him) just so they don't melt, he says.

if you're not picky, he even lets you eat the chocolates others gift him. why? he's not sure but food is food. he notices which sweets you ignore, eat, practically chow down on for future references. you know, in case he needs a human garbage disposal!

scaramouche doesn't stop there; he should've, but he doesn't.

"y/n. i'll leave you to it." he's vague as shit as he sets down a bag of sweets—not just any sweets, flavors and consistencies he knows you'll like—on your lap.

you eye them suspiciously. "what's the occasion? or is it another request for my talent of eating?" you somewhat joke. scara does not find you humorous.

he crosses his arms, already walking away and waving you off, dismissing the question. "you like those, don't you? go on and eat then before i change my mind."

you said you liked handmade gifts. scaramouche was gifted with craftsmanship, fortunately.

he held a sewing needle, slipping the thread in through the small hole and tied it. he ignored your attentive gaze at his hands. he skillfully worked, fixing up a patch on a shirt you had ripped. why was a piece of clothing so important? you had plenty of other things to wear (more than you'd like to admit but he can basically see your closet from his room).

your eyes never left the male's work while he finished. he snaps the thread and places the needle somewhere on his table. "there. you happy?" he lifts up the shirt and you quickly take it in your arms.

"thank you, thank you, thank you!!" you hold the simple clothing item close to your chest and scaramouche can't help but wonder why.

he scoffs, standing up and beginning to clean up after his simple task. "i don't know why you're so stuck up on a shirt; you have plenty of others."

you laugh. folding the shirt and setting it on your lap, you look at scara. "well i don't expect you to remember but this one's actually yours."

"and why do you have one of my shirts?" he refutes.

"because i like it." such a bold sentence coming from a person who ripped the fabric a few minutes ago but scaramouche accepts it. he sighs after a while—and after cleaning up his mess, he waves you off again.

he can't seem to say no to you, it's infuriating. "just don't stain it. i might need it later."

you said you liked nice guys. too bad scaramouche is not that. but hey, a personality change never hurt anybody. besides you deserve it—not many people can tolerate him at his highest.

he, besides giving you simple gifts, gave you words of encouragement. if you ever wanted to pursue anything (as stupid as it may be), he'll support you... even if that said support consists of constant berating and complaints, he's not going to stop your idiotic yet passionate mind.

"go on." he mutters, his eyes only on you as you attempt to do something stupid again. holding a brush up to a canvas, you merely scribble the page with a terrible artistic view. a red sky, a pink tree, a rose ocean—just what was your idea?

"you can't be colorblind, can you? if you aren't, this is just plain embarrassing for us both." you pout, not turning to see his assumed look of 'i told you so'.

you attempt painting again, just adding a few more splashes of color onto the 'ruined' canvas. "you wouldn't get it, scara. it's simply an artistic thing!"

he scoffs, like he always does, before sitting up from his chair and looking over your shoulder. not too many details were added but the pink tree had blossomed quite well and the rose ocean finally looked like a simple mirage rather than an actual pink-colored ocean. "not bad," he mutters.

"could be a whole ton better but who's judging?" scaramouche teases. you narrow your eyes at him with a pout,

"you are!"

you said you liked cheesy, romantic dates. it was a stupid request to fulfill, honestly. you practically bored him on the way there. but like always, he can't say no to such a pretty face.

it wasn't at all what he was expecting. he expected (with someone as terrible taste as you) to be lead towards a fast food chain or a crowded, elegant place.

it was a small picnic at the beach.

you two sat under a tree for a while, just conversing with each other. "what are you planning, y/n?" scaramouche raises an eyebrow and looks at you. you just looked back at him with a smile, a smile he wish didn't make his heart burn by just looking at it. "it's a surprise." so vague. too vague for the male.

he scoffs. it's obvious he wants to ask more questions but he doesn't have the heart to interrupt such a peaceful moment between the two of you. he just sits quietly beside you, watching the sun fade, the chocolates melts, the petals from the tree—a cherry blossom tree, he noted, fall down, and the breeze grow sweeter.

the sun hit scaramouche like an angel. his violet eyes looked like they were glowing like stars. he looked heavenly. his lips look soft, his hair was well-volumed, his presence was so fulfilling. he was so... perfect. "y/n, you can stop staring."

"i know," you whisper back. when did you suddenly become so sentimental? the jig was up.

the chocolates you loved so much, the 'date' you wanted so badly was there. what else did you want, what else did you like? "what is it?"

"you're nice. you're a nice guy."

scaramouche scoffs, "so?"

"i like nice guys." you both stayed quiet for a while. your eyes wandered everywhere, to his eyes to his subtle frown to his outfit while scaramouche didn't dare to look away from your eyes. they had a sense of longing he never knew they could have. did he have the same look? a look of longing? longing for someone who'd be with him forever?

did he have a look of yearning? yearning for someone who'd stay and love him, like all those who promised so distantly in the past? would you stay with him if he asked? would you promise to keep your promises to him, to allow him to trust you as you do him?

so many questions and so little answers, lesser time now as he thinks all these overwhelming thoughts.

"scara?" you call out.

scaramouche didn't dare speak louder than a whisper. "yeah?"

you said you liked him.

[emmyrosee]

“How come you get to ride in the cart?” He says, a pout in his voice but a smirk curling at his lips. Your hip cocks up as your arms cross over your chest, more than willing to duke this out with him in the entrance of the store.

“Uh, because I’m adorable?” Your words only make his grin spread even more, he knows he’s supposed to make an argument against that but he can’t bring himself to; it’s true, you’re perfect in every trace of the word.

But who was he to go down without a fight?

“But baaaaabe,” he whines further, folding his torso into the cart. “I’m so sore from practice and ‘Samu hit me with the ball and I’ve been walking funny since, and I just want my perfect, stunning, and oh, so smart-“

“Oh my god, fine, just get in the cart!” You snort, the giggles bubbling from your lips. He merely grins victoriously before scrambling himself up and into the cart, other shoppers watching in annoyance and amusement as you watch his knees fold up to his chest.

“Comfy?” You snort, to which he nods over enthusiastically. You roll your eyes before folding yourself over the front of the cart to plant a kiss on his head.

“What do you even need, anyways?” He hums, his head turning back and forth in the superstore, sharp eyes glazing over the shelves. You lean on the handles of the cart, looking around and making a beeline straight to the snacks, giving him a dramatic sigh as you do so.

“Well,” you hum. “I know you wanted m&m’s and popcorn, but I also wanted to grab a few bags of Doritos and since the fuckface I decided to let spoon me at night ate the last of my cookies,” your eyes glare dead at him, only to be met with a wide, toothy grin. “I need to buy more.”

“The guy who spoons you at night sounds hot.”

“The guy who spoons me at night sounds like I’m going to smother him with a pillow.” With that, you two make your way to the snack aisle, your eyes glazing over the contents of the shelves hungrily. “You want any drinks or anything?”

“Nah, I’ll just take whatever you buy.”

You glare at him, “that’s kinda the reason we’re in here in the first place, you clown.”

He snorts at the nickname before hooking his chin over the side of the cart, his sharp eyes flicking over the colored bottles and cans. “Toss me a grape soda.”

“Grape?”

“Yeah.”

“Mid,” you scoff, grabbing him a can to put in the cart. He blinks unamused at you, but ultimately keeps his mouth shut while you make your choice.

“Oh, but my choice is mid,” he teases as you plop a can of lemon lime in his lap.

“This flavor has been worshipped all over the world- you just like the taste of cough medicine or something.”

“My mom only buys the bubblegum flavored cough medicine.”

“Feral.”

The little back and forth you share passes the time as you turn the cart to the chips and Candy, and without sparing a second, you grab the Doritos and toss them carelessly into the cart, smirking as you hear them crunch against his head and body.

“You know, I may annoy you, but I am still in the cart,” he says, shielding himself from another bag of chips that you swat in the cart. When he turns his head up to glare at you, he sees the goofy smile spread over your cheeks, and he’ll happily get beat up by your snacks if it meant he could see it forever.

It’s simple. It’s comfortable, annoying each other throughout the aisles and laughing when the other makes a stupid jab, but Rintaro knows that this is all he’s worked up for. A domesticity that had to be crafted carefully, and he’s honored that you decided to map it with your love.

It’s nothing all like he’d expected love to be like- and now, it’s love he’d never change for anything.

“Get your cookies and lets get the hell out of here.”

“Why? Afraid we’ll miss another episode that we’ve seen forty-eight thousand times?” You jeer, steering the cart to the back wall, where all the cookies are tucked away. He decides to say nothing, merely letting your own joke make you chuckle.

He says you're easy to sedate like that. Really, he does it because the way you get the last word makes you happy.

He watches your lips pull back into an almost relieved smile, grabbing the box of cookies and nodding happily, all before turning back to him in the cart.

“Now be careful,” you warn, clutching the sweet to your chest protectively. “Suna, I’m trusting you with the most precious cargo in the cart. Do not blow it.”

“God, no need to bring out the government name, just give me the damned cookies,” he scoffs, making grabby hands and rolling his eyes when you hesitate. “And for the record, I’m the most precious cargo in the cart. Don’t even start with me.”

“You’re like. Fifth, on the tier list.”

“I’m going to fart on your pillow. Give me the cookies.”

You do, with another small smirk. "You want anything else, baby?" You ask, though you proceed to the checkout.

"Nah, I think I'm good, booger."

You hum and steer him to the self checkout, letting you bag the snacks while he passes them to you, citing you both as the "dream team"- which briefly collapses when you refuse to take his card to pay for everything and chuckling as he scrambles for the wallet tucked in his back pocket.

"You're annoying," he grumbles at your lack of acceptance for his chivalry.

"And you're squishing my snacks- you trying to sleep on the couch?"

Regardless, you push him out of the store and into the night air, and even if he'd rather chew on glass than admit it, the way your face relaxes at the feeling of fresh air makes him melt, and he smiles dopily until you jerk the cart.

"Okay. Get out."

"Huh?"

For a moment, just a moment, it's possible that Suna Rintaro forgot he's in the cart.

"Get out. I'm not wheeling you home, babe."

He sends you a playful glare before using massive hands to grip the side of the cart for leverage. He tries to push back, but his legs can't extend much farther out.

At this point, you're just watching, one brow cocked in amusement and tongue licking the corner of your mouth victoriously. If you didn't look so hot, Rintaro would be furious.

“Babe?”

“What's up, player?"

There’s a silence between you both. You're the absolute worst in this situation by barely even acknowledging his struggle. his lanky frame, still in the wired shopping cart, looks so cramped, and maybe, just maybe, if one of the Gods loved him, they would smite him down from the face of the earth right now.

You smirk, “problems?"

"I'm gonna cheat on you with Kita-San."

"Like he'll he's gonna want you when you're stuck in a cart you begged to be in."

He gnaws at his lip in focus, trying to will his knees to unbuckle from their position and out of the cart.

But they refuse.

He whimpers in his throat while you point and finally cackle at him, loudly, rudely, being absolutely no help in this scenario, and he finally hides his face in his bent knees in embarrassment.

“I’m stuck in the cart.”

[aliaology]

WORK SONG

summary: jacks mind runs constantly, and you’re the reason

small a/n: per usual, readers looks wont be described, so reader can look however you want ♡ , does get slightly sensual! not tagging ppl for this one bc i forgot my taglist and im sleepy

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

not doing my tags bc im too lazy for this rn

boys workin’ on empty, is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? i just think about my baby. im so full of love i could barely eat

being in love was a full time job, and jack had no complaints. he loved being in love because it meant waking up next to you. it meant he was able to touch you, to feel you, to be with you. oh— how he loved it. he didn’t care if he was at practice, just thinking about you, because you were his motivator. he didn’t need drinks or food or sleep to play, just you.

you brought him the strength he craved, you were his number one fan. the one who supported him through thick and thin even when he was wrong. the one who held their hand out, so he could grab it and begin to climb. you were such an angel.

there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. i’d never want once from the cherry tree. ‘cause my baby’s sweet as can be. she’d give me toothaches just from kissin’ me.

your kisses were sweet. the way you’d pepper them against his skin, over and over and over again, made him fall deeply. you were his muse and your sound was so pretty. the way your mouth would drop open, noises escaping it. oh how you were so beautiful.

your lips tasted like cherries, a favorite fruit that he began liking the second his tongue met with the flavor of you. the flavor would linger, no matter what lips he kissed.

the feeling of your fingers on his face, or his lips, anywhere on his body, was like heaven. giving into you like a drug— he was addicted. he loved your touch, no matter if it was gentle, or the scratches you’d leave on his back. he yearned for more.

and i was burning up a fever. i didn’t care much how long i lived. i swear i thought i dreamed her. she never asked me once about the wrong i did.

jack hated being sick just because of the feeling. the feeling of a stuffy nose, a headache, the cough. all of it. but you somehow made it good. the way you would take care of him, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead when he had a fever. or when you’d make soup from scratch, your grandmas recipe that you keep a secret.

you were too good to be true. you were the embodiment of perfect in jacks eyes. everything about you. from how you spoke and how your tone was always gentle — to how you felt inside and out. every time you grip jacks hand hard— he swears he’s dreaming. you can’t be real. you were ethereal.

my babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. if the lord dont forgive me, i’d still have my baby and my babe would have me.

jack didn’t like you worrying. he hated it, hated how you would get so scared that he would leave to go back to an ex. how you thought you were nothing compared to them— but you were so much more. you were his everything. the one who kept him going. you were his sun, he revolved around you. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“baby— what if they ever want you back? they’re so pretty.”

“oh baby, they could never compare to you.”

he didn’t care what he’d have to do, but he’d do it all for you to stay happy. in his eyes, you hung the universe. you were his universe.

when i was kissing on my baby, and she put her love down soft and sweet. in the low lamp light i was free. heaven and hell were words to me.

being able to press slow kisses to your neck and shoulders were his favorite things to do. or watching your soft body rock gently with his as your sweet love lit him up. you made jack forget everything in the world no matter where you were. you made jack forget everything else just by talking to him.

skin on skin, heavy breathing, sloppy kisses, it was all sweet. it was all you, you and your love. no time with him was for the hell of it. all of it was love, pure and desirable.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. no grave can hold my body down, ill crawl home to her.

love. jack loved being in love. he hated the saying ‘til death do us part’ and it wasn’t because he didn’t believe it. he hated it because it would never apply to him. he wanted a saying that would be one he could hold onto forever, just like your hand. he wouldn’t part ways with you once death decided to take over.

no— he’d hold you the entire time. he’d be with you no matter where you were. he’d wait until you two met again— and then he’d take you to another universe because in every one of them, you were soulmates.

jack would not let a grave, or death, part you two. he would hold onto you whether it be with one hand, or with his heart.

[d3n1r]

the taste of you

kento nanami x fempov reader - MDNI 🔞

(content warning: 18+ NSFW, female pronouns and genitalia, sweat kink? is that a thing? LIGHT SOMNO / waking up to sexual advancements.)

(this is slow just like the time it took me to write it)

Kento had felt so terrible for not installing the AC in your shared bedroom sooner. Work had been so terribly busy for both of you, and by the time the evening came, there was nothing him or you wanted more than to sleep.

Granted, the windows were open and the fan was on, but it hardly mattered at the times you actually woke up. At night, the room was blistering from the heat of the day, and by morning, the sun had started cooking the room already.

But you weren't one to complain, no. Never complaining about any of Kento's promises- because even if it took him a while, he would keep them. Your perfect husband. The fact that he knew you weren't mad made him feel even worse.

Kento awoke before you each day- he was an early riser, while you were a night owl. It was lucky enough that your jobs made room for that in your schedules as well, letting him go to work bright and early and you able to rest for as long as you want before clocking in.

He sat up in the bed, not needing to peel away from you much to begin with because of the heat. It was already something over 70 degrees in there, and in your sleep, you had sprawled out, wearing a tank top that had drifted up along with a pair of panties. Even one of your socks had gone missing in the night- he thought it was adorable. You were adorable.

You had given him permission to wake you up to his dick in you a long time ago. The idea of him needing you so badly he couldn't wait for you to wake up was arousing. And while he had been hesitant at first, he came to understand the appeal when you'd squirm on his tongue sleepily and moan his name half-conscious.

Kento hummed in admiration seeing your nude body splayed before him, soft and practically glistening in the morning light. Subconsciously his hand went to cup your cheek, a warm smile on his lips that matched the heat of the room. His other hand trailed along your abdomen, relishing in the feeling of your plush skin beneath his fingertips.

Then his honey brown eyes widened. Slowly, a small bead of sweat rolled from the peak of your breast to the valley between them, threatening to continue a path down your abdomen to your stomach. It was encapsulating, and he felt himself frozen amidst the heat of the sun, which made you seem to glow to him. You were already so perfect, now covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Your body was so pretty and cute. He couldn't restrain himself from settling his hands gently on your sides, gripping them lightly as he leaned down closer, practically hovering over you. You had a scent that was so utterly you, intoxicating. Here you were in your sleep, your body trying to cool you off in your otherwise peaceful slumber to no avail.

But not to worry. Kento would help his ethereal wife since he had so unfairly forgotten about the AC. His eyes traced along the shimmering peaks of your chest, and before he could think any longer his tongue darted from his mouth, licking gently at the sensitive, but flat bud of your breast as you slept.

He almost moaned- you tasted a bit salty, but still utterly you. He could even taste the sun on your skin as it beamed upon your perfect body under him.

"Fuck, my love," Kento whispered, before wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking and licking away the heated flavor of your skin, his hand going to circle your other nipple, the soft dampness of your skin allowing the pads of his fingers to trace your skin with ease.

He slowly released your breast from his mouth, admiring how the peak of it hardened in the warm air in contrast to his hot tongue that had just been pressing against it. Kento smiled in satisfaction, leaning to do the same to your other nipple, before his gaze turned.

That damn bead of sweat that had made him so feral in the first place.

It slowly started to roll down your abdomen as you breathed, and before Kento knew what he was doing, his tongue had caught it, licking a stripe up your skin to copy the roll of perspiration's original path.

Fuck, he was so hooked on you. Your sounds, your taste, the feeling of your soft skin- he could hardly think, drunk off of merely worshipping your body. Before he knew it, he was kissing along your body, his hands gently kneading the softness of your waist.

It was only his low moan that he couldn't contain as he pulled down your panties, seeing the sight of your wet core (he knew it was from the heat, it'd be unrealistic to imagine he'd made you wet in your sleep, right?) that made you start to stir, your hand moving to find his head at your pelvis. Your sleepy fingers threaded through his hair, your half asleep mind registering the feeling of Kento in your hand and happy he was there, and that was all.

Kento hummed, knowing he was playing with fire. He could wake you up, and you'd be groggy, but he'd be sure to reward you. You'd have no time to think about how hot it was without the AC if you woke up to his tongue soothing your clit.

With two long digits he spread your folds, his tongue flicking along the area around your swollen, warm nub. He was trying to get a rise from you, to stir you further, and it worked, your fingers curling in his hair like an involuntary flex.

"Ken, wh-" Your shaky, drowsy voice was cut off by a whine leaving your lips, his own lips having wrapped around the sensitive bud between your legs.

"Good morning, my love," He mumbled against your warmth, his tongue snaking between your folds, which made you shudder. "Did you sleep well?"

If it was any other morning, you'd have mumbled some groggy nonsense about the lack of AC having woken you up, but the heat clinging to your body right now felt much more pleasant. Just as Kento intended.

"Mm, yeah, f-fine," You retorted breathily, your back arching a bit for him as Kento eased a finger into your slit, the digit curling and flexing to ease you into the feeling.

He smiled- it was always his smile, the way his lips curled up and his eyes crinkled that made your heart skip a beat and flutter- along with another part of you fluttering around his now two fingers unraveling you.

"That's good, darling." Kento murmured happily, pressing a kiss to your clit as though it was the most normal mundane thing to do in that moment. You sighed, feeling your body heat up further, but not from the temperature of the room. At least, not entirely from that- not when he was making you feel so spoiled and pampered, his beautiful girl.

Your husband always made sure you woke up feeling your best. Even if he had forgotten to install the air conditioning again- was it on purpose?

... part two??

HELP I DREAMT ABOUT THIS INSPIRED BY THE FACT THAT ITS SO HOT OUT AND I DIDNT HAVE MY AC YET-

[frankenkyle19]

Corn-Maze Shenanigans

Happy Halloween! I literally have been working on this for two weeks and it’s still trash but I don’t care anymore, I’m absolutely exhausted. Hopefully it’s decent, sorry it’s rushed I wanted to get it done before Halloween was actually over and I work all day tomorrow and won’t have time to post it. Not at all proofread. Probably a lot of errors.

Word count: 5.5k

Description: Peter Maximoff and reader go to a fall/Halloween festival together on their day off. The corn maze was closed for the day but Peter comes up with a plan. They get up to no good in the corn maze. Smut. Smut. Smut. Enjoy! :)

The nostalgic feeling that fall brought on never ceased to amaze Peter.. Everything about it was magical. The weather, the activities and my god the smells. The smell of fall was something that Peter wished could be ingrained into his scent receptors. The spices, the chill in the air.. There was no debate, it was the best time of year hands down and he’d die on that hill.

He’d been dying to go to a pumpkin patch or a festival since the end of September but the X-men had been so busy with.. Well, helping keep people safe. Peter wished he could have called for some sort of time off or something because he felt as if he was watching everyone else around him enjoy activities that he obviously loved more.

Finally, fucking finally after what felt truly like years, you agreed to go with him to a nearby farm festival on a day the two of you weren’t busy. Peter swore he’d never been happier, practically bouncing up and down just thinking about it. He couldn’t wait to eat whatever fall snacks there were and play (and obviously win) all of the games.

And he wouldn’t lie, he was excited that he got to hang out with just you. Like.. Alone. Yeah he was super excited about that. Suddenly all the waiting seemed like it would pay off. Finally the universe was working in his favor!!

————

The day of arrived and Peter quite literally couldn’t think about anything else. Couldn’t concentrate, could barely function. It was actually pretty bad but he ignored that fact in favor of imagining how much fun the two of you would have later.

He waited outside of your room, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was wearing a brown striped knit sweater with big bubble sleeves that had him feeling like he was wrapped in a nice cozy blanket, the only time he’d be seen without his iconic silver jacket. It was supposed to be chilly tonight and he wanted to make sure he didn’t freeze to death. As much as he liked the cold weather he’d rather avoid hypothermia.

“Are ya almost done?” He asked, leaning his ear against the door to try and hear what you were doing inside. Nosy fucker. “We should probably get going soon so we’ve got plenty of time to look at everything before it gets dark!” He said, fidgeting with his fingers, brain moving a mile a minute.

“Almost done!” You called out, doing your finishing touches before you took a glance at yourself in the mirror, also wearing a sweater similar to Peter’s. Great minds think alike apparently.

Snatching up your bag and your car keys you did one last scan of your room to make sure you didn’t forget anything before you opened the door, eyes lighting up when you saw Peter in his oversized sweater.

“What took you so long? We’re in practically the same outfit, only difference is I took a minute to get ready and you took thirty,” He shook his head but followed after you as you began to walk down the hall.

“Well the difference, besides you having superspeed would be I just needed to do more. Makeup, hair.. Things that lots of people do before going out.”

“Pshhhh all that stuff’s unnecessary. You would have looked fine rolling out of bed, ‘kay?”

Peter said, but he wasn’t really listening, mind set on the future. Specifically about fifteen minutes in the future where he’d be stuffing his face with pumpkin flavored everything and picking out a pumpkin from the patch to bring home and carve.

The two of you reached the garage and made your way to your car, sliding in. Peter messed with the radio as you adjusted your seat and pulled out of your spot, leaving the garage. The crunch of gravel underneath your tires was music to Peter’s ears, just another reminder that the two of you were headed to what Peter would probably recall later on as being the best part of his year.

“You excited?” You asked, though you knew the answer. Everyone at the damn school knew the answer because he wouldn’t stop talking about it. Scott had seriously started to consider duct taping his mouth shut just to get a moment of silence.

“More excited than I’ve ever been in my whole life, I'm pretty sure, even made sure not to eat any twinkies today so I’d have enough room in my stomach to try everything. You know how difficult that was?”

A scoff left your lips as you shook your head. “You and your Twinkie obsession..”

“They’re arguably the best snake cake ever created, dude! Did you know originally it wasn’t vanilla filling? It was banana. I guess during the Second World War bananas weren’t being imported to the US anymore so they had to switch to vanilla cream.”

You’d never heard Peter so passionate about anything in his life, except maybe about his little tricks to get the highest scores in arcade games.

“You ever considered teaching history? History of American snack cakes,” you laughed which then caused Peter to laugh as well.

“Maybe I should ask Charles if that can be a course next semester. Who knows, maybe if I really show my knowledge he’ll say yes.” He drummed his hands against his legs, waiting in anticipation to arrive.

You and Peter kept short conversation as you drove until you turned down a long gravel road, approaching the farm. You felt Peter moving side to side next to you, trying to regulate his body before the two of you got out of the car.

—————

The farm finally came into view along with the sweet smell of caramel and pumpkin. You managed to find a parking spot fairly easily and before you’d even fully stopped the car Peter was scrambling out, looking towards the entrance of the farm, a huge child-like grin on his face.

You didn’t want to keep the poor man waiting any longer so you quickly turned the car off and stepped out, grabbing your bag and walking around to his side of the car.

“Ready?” You asked, breaking him out of his excited daze, to which he nodded eagerly and grabbed your hand while he walked towards the entrance as fast as he could without using his actual superspeed. The last thing the two of you needed was anyone recognizing him. Hopefully without his silver jacket or X-men suit it would be harder to identify him as the one and only Quicksilver.

“Born ready, baby.” He laughed softly as the two of you walked up to the ticket booth and Peter reached to pull his wallet out of his pocket. You stopped him, quickly grabbing your own and pulling out two five dollar bills, handing them over to the man in the ticket booth.

“Hey! I was gonna pay for that- I’m the one who dragged you here anyways- C’mon-“ Peter huffed out as the man stamped both of your hands with a little pumpkin stamp before waving you on your way so that he could attend to the next person in line.

“Too bad. I know how excited you’ve been for this and I wanted to do something nice. Sue me.” You grinned, taking Peter’s hand again as the two of you looked around. It was absolutely beautiful. Orange and yellow and red colors were splashed everywhere the eye could see. There were pumpkins, gourds and the smell of delicious foods that Peter couldn’t wait to devour.

“Where do you want to go first, Quickie? Lead the way.”

Peter didn’t need anymore convincing, looking towards the nearest vendor and making his way over. There were several signs above the tent which explained what was being sold there.

Fresh pumpkin pie, pumpkin donuts, pumpkin cookies.. Just about everything pumpkin flavored under the sun.

“What’re you gonna get?” You leaned closer to Peter while you spoke so that he could hear you better over the crowds of people chatting.

“Everything. Every. Single. Thing.” You would have called his bluff but you knew he wasn’t joking. Hell, you were talking to the man who averaged like.. Two boxes of twinkies a day. This would be easy for him.

Luckily the line went quickly and when it was Peter’s turn, the look of shock and horror on the person’s face who was taking his order was hilarious.

Peter managed to somehow carry everything stacked up in his arms over to a picnic table where he organized everything by what he wanted to try first or what he wanted to save for last.

He took a seat and you did as well, sitting next to him as he grabbed the first thing in front of him, a slice of pie and devoured it in three bites. His cheeks were stuffed and he looked at you with a dorky grin before he chewed and swallowed, letting out a pleased hum at the taste. Peter was an absolute foodie through and through.

He downed it all like he hadn’t eaten in days, stopping every now and then to offer you a bite of certain things you were eyeing. It was actually quite adorable. At one point he’d gotten some sort of frosting on his nose and you wiped it off with your thumb, laughing as Peter’s cheeks turned a dusty pink.

Peter took the last bite of the last dessert on the table before using his speed to clean up the trash and throw it away before rejoining you at the table. Usually you’d lecture him about using his powers in public but no one seemed to notice and if they did they were too busy to care.

“You full now?” You asked, laughing as Peter rubbed his stomach over his sweater.

“Nope. Not even a little.”

You rolled your eyes before standing up, glancing over to another stand where they were selling warm apple cider. Just the thought alone had you feeling all warm inside.

“Peter! Apple cider, come on!” You said before running off in the direction of the apple cider to which he quickly followed.

———

With your hands wrapped around the warm cups of cider the two of you decided to do a little more exploring. People were beginning to leave little by little the later it got but the sun was still bright in the sky so the two of you had a while before it closed. You were thankful for it being less crowded though. You could finally hear yourself think!

Bringing the cup up to his lips, Peter sipped the spiced drink and you admired him for a moment. He looked so cozy and you knew he felt it as well. It was nice being able to get away from all the hustle and bustle of the school even if it was just for a little while. It was definitely needed. For the both of you.

Peter caught you staring and he raised a brow quizzically, wondering for a moment if he had leftover crumbs on his face or something. “What’re you staring at?” He asked, moving the cup away from his face.

“Nothing- no it’s nothing I was just.. I’m glad you dragged me along to this thing, Peter. I’m having a lot of fun.”

“And the days not even over yet! There’s still so much to do! I wanna go pick out a pumpkin to bring back with us! C’mon!”

—————

“What about this one?” Peter said, picking up a tiny, half broken pumpkin that looked like it was already beginning to rot.

“Ew, No! Just pick a normal one!”

The two of you had been going at this for close to fifteen minutes now. Peter was finding the ugliest pumpkins he possibly could before asking your opinion on them. The whole time you were just trying to find a cute one that called to you.

“Well I’m not normal so why would I pick a normal pumpkin? What defines normal anyways?” Peter said as he searched for another fucked up freak of nature pumpkin.

“You’re spending too much time talking to Charles. You’re starting to sound like him.”

“Oh am I now? Ello I’m Charles Xavier and this is my school for gifted children-“ Peter said in a very over the top posh English accent before he cut himself off with a laugh.

“Well he certainly doesn’t sound like that.. just find a pumpkin already!” You were between two choices. Two serious choices but Peter was just acting a fool. It was actually rather adorable. You were starting to find a lot of the things he did adorable.

“Okay okay bossy pants! Geesh.” Peter scoffed, glancing around the field once more. It was a big field with lots of pumpkins and the two of you wouldn’t be able to look through all of them so he just decided to look in the general vicinity for one.

Finally he found the perfect one. Well, his version of perfect because when you saw it you scoffed, facepalming as he held it up triumphantly as if it was his most prized possession.

The pumpkin itself was a dark orange, almost red and it was covered in bumps, making it look akin to a toad’s skin. That wasn’t even the worst of it though. Half of it was lopsided and looked like it’s growth had been stunted so it barely sat upright on its own without tipping over.

“You’re serious?” You asked, brow raised curiously as Peter rocked the pumpkin back and forth, cooing at it like it was a child.

“I am absolutely positive. Never been more sure in my life. Look at the little guy, it’s so cute. In.. it’s own way. Look- If I don’t take it no one will and then it’ll sit here in this field until it rots wondering why it wasn’t good enough to be chosen.”

“That was… weirdly deep. Okay okay whatever.”

You moved to step closer to Peter when you nearly tripped over a tiny pumpkin at your feet. It was perfectly round and orange except for one little part of it towards the top which was white. It looked like the only pumpkin in the whole patch that was multicolored and something drew you to it. You scooped it up off the ground and it was so small it fit in the palm of your hand. Stupid Peter, making you feel bad for damn pumpkins! They were pumpkins! It’s not like they had feelings. But you couldn’t resist this one because it was just so cute and unique.

“See? I told you. The normal ones are boring. Unique is where it’s attttt,” Peter winked. “Now, corn-maze?”

————

“I’m sorry, the corn maze is closed for the night. Too many people end up stuck in there and we don’t want to have to search for them while it’s dark. sorry.” The man standing in front of the corn maze said, arms crossed over his broad chest.

You and Peter let out twin sighs of disappointment and you moved to walk away from the maze when Peter grabbed your hand and without another moment's notice he sped the two of you into the maze. So fast that the man hadn’t even realized what had happened.

“Peter!” You gasped, glancing around at the stalks of corn now surrounding the two of you. “What if we get lost like he says? We don’t have a map!”

“It’s no biggie, babe! I'm hella fast, if we can’t find our way out I’ll just zoom around until I find the exit. It’s no big deal-i-o.” Peter seemed very nonchalant about it all while you were a bit more worried.

Turns out you had reason to be worried because the two of you were lost within the first five minutes of entering the damn maze and neither of you had a map…

—————-

“Come on babe, we could totally have some fun before they come and find us. The suns barely started setting yet we’ve still got a while. Promise I’ll make it worth itttt” Peter cooed into your ear as he trailed wet kisses down your neck before making his way back to your lips. Who knew being trapped in a corn maze could make someone so horny.

You tried to ignore him, really you did but it was practically impossible because as much as you hated to admit it you wanted him too. You’d always been curious about him and as annoying as it was, you were extremely sexually frustrated. Being cooped up in the school all hours of the day didn’t make it easy to get laid. It wasn’t like you could really bring dates back there either. Sneaking them in was rather easy but looking Charles in the eyes after was not. Because of course he always found out. He knew everything.

So, you kissed Peter back, letting his hands move up either side of your body, deft fingers feeling and squeezing until he got to your breasts. Ah yes, your breasts. Glorious glorious boobies. Peter loved them. He tried his best not to stare but hey! They were good tits!

His warm palms cupped your breasts over your sweater, giving a gentle squeeze as he kissed you deeper, practically devouring your mouth with his own. He was desperate, that much was obvious as he subtly began to grind his already raging hard-on against your thigh.

He wasn’t nearly as subtle as he hoped he was though because you felt him rutting against you but instead of pushing him away you pressed yourself further against him, applying more pressure to his throbbing cock. A little sigh of relief left his lips.

The two of you pulled away to breathe, your chest rising and falling heavily as you looked up at Peter, his silver hair already out of place and sticking to his forehead. He looked wrecked and you’d barely even begun. You were going to have so much fun with him.

Thankfully inside the corn maze there were several stumps that were placed around for people to sit on and take breaks, etc. they looked like the perfect place to sit Peter down right now and tease him till he was squirming and begging. He had absolutely no idea what he was in for but really it was his fault for initiating all of it in the first place.

Grabbing him by the front of his shirt you pulled him to one of the stumps, forcing him down onto it before you dropped to your knees in front of him. The dew on the grass seeped into the fabric of your pants and made you shiver but there were more important matters at hand, literally, as your hands reached for Peter’s belt before he quickly stopped you once his brain seemed to catch up, eyes wide.

“Woah woah woah what’re you doing?” He asked, holding your hands in his own much larger ones as he looked down at you, dark brown eyes blown wide, chest rising and falling heavily.

“I was just gonna- do you not want me to?” You asked, looking up at him with a puzzled expression on your face as you moved to pull away. Had this been too much? Was he just… All talk? Was he just joking and you’d actually made a fool of yourself? Oh god there were so many things it could be and now you were completely embarrassed-

“Wait!” He grabbed your arm, keeping you where you were as he continued to stare at you before he let his tongue sweep out to wet his pretty pink lips. “I- I’d love that I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to, y’know? Like I’d totally love it, bet it would feel fucking amazing I just didn’t know if like-“

You shushed him, pressing a finger up to his lips and he quickly paused, almost like he was under a spell. You were one hell of a witch then. Your other hand came to palm him over his jeans, feeling the heat of his erection through the fabric. He let out a shocked little gasp before squeezing his eyes shut, mouth slightly agape as a soft noise of pleasure left him.

“You want me to touch you, Peter?” You asked. You wanted a verbal response since he’d seemed initially so apprehensive of it even if he’d already given a reason as to why.

“I-Yeah. Yes please touch me please-“ if he was embarrassed about already begging he didn’t show it as he arched his hips up further into your touch, just trying to get more friction on his now nearly painful erection.

You didn’t need much more convincing after that, undoing Peter’s belt and pulling his zipper down before you reached into his boxers and pulled his length out. It stood at attention, long and throbbing and hard, a pretty bead of pre-cum on the tip. Mouth watering, you stroked over him a few times before you pressed a kiss to the head.

Peter was trying to maintain his composure, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in attempts to keep quiet as your warm, wet mouth toyed with the head of his cock. He was so outrageously sensitive that he was practically already squirming. Was he squirming away from the touch or into it? Even he didn’t know. All he knew was he never wanted this feeling to end.

Your tongue traced across the head of his dick, collecting the pre-cum there and letting it coat your taste buds, humming at the salty flavor that you’d been dying to taste for longer than you’d like to admit. Then you kissed down the side of his length, letting your lips memorize the feeling of the prominent veins that you found, committing it all to your memory. Hopefully this would become a common occurrence and you wouldn’t have to worry about remembering it.

Your hand continued to stroke the base of him and he seemed to just get impossibly harder the longer time went on.

Finally you took him fully into your mouth, lips tight around him as you slowly took him inch by inch. You were determined to take all of him but it would take a moment to work up to. You were a bit rusty.

Peter let out a quiet little cry as he tried his absolute hardest not to buck up into your mouth and choke you on his cock but it was getting harder by the minute to control himself. He gripped the sides of the stump he was sitting on, looking up at the sky which was starting to turn a beautiful orange as the sun began to set. He’d never realized how beautiful outdoor sex could be. Especially in a cornfield. Most people wouldn’t ever really think of that.

You bobbed your head slowly, letting your nostrils flare as you took him deeper, moving your hand away as you took him to the base, silver curls tickling your face before you pulled back, taking a sharp breath in. Your throat was already scratchy but you weren’t anywhere near done. You’d been waiting forever and a day to do this and you wanted to take your time and really savor him.

“Jesus Christ!” Peter shouted before he covered his mouth when you took him back into the warmth of your mouth without warning. This was how he was going to die, he was calling it right now. Peter Maximoff cause of death: Blowjob. That sounded about right.

Humming around him, you pressed your tongue on the underside of his cock, feeling him pulse inside of your mouth. It was something you could easily become addicted to, sucking him off like this. Your pants were soaked by now, not only from the wetness on the grass but also from your own wetness that seeped from your core into your panties.

Peter let his head drop back against his shoulders and he let out a groan, one of his hands shyly coming to rest on the crown of your head where he tangled his fingers into your hair, massaging your scalp. It felt nice and had your eyes slightly rolling back. Placing your palms on his thighs you began to bob your head faster over him, a lewd squelching sound coming from your throat as you tried to hold back a gag.

Peter began to tremble, his body just so subtly vibrating as he began to get close. He was honestly surprised he’d lasted as long as he did and stayed as quiet as he had. Peter was usually someone who never shut up a day in his life.

“I’m- oh Jesus baby girl I’m getting close! I’m close- wait- I-“ His words died in his throat as you focused your attention on the tip of his length, circling it with your tongue, all the while grinning wickedly up at Peter who was falling apart.

“I’m serious! So serious I’m going to come in like- five seconds tops and I really don’t want to come in your mouth baby-“ He was obviously trying to be a gentleman but you thought fuck that and held his hips down as you continued your ministrations.

Peter seemed to give up then, realizing that you didn’t care if he came in your mouth. That you in fact wanted it, and when he actually thought about how hot that was it was what caused him to tip over the edge, gasping out a moan as he spilled hotly into your mouth in thick spurts.

You sputtered a moment before recovering, pulling off of him so that you could swallow before wiping the remaining cum from the corners of your mouth off on your sweater which would obviously now need a good cleaning.

Peter finally managed to open his eyes and look down at you, still on the ground, lips red and swollen and eyes a bit teary from the intrusion in your throat.

Speaking of throat, it was scratchy and would likely be sore later but you counted it as a win considering what you’d just done. Blown Peter Maximoff.. Hell yeah you did.

You were ready to call it a day now and find a way out of this stupid maze but Peter seemed to have a different idea. His gaze seemed to narrow and he was staring at you almost like a lion stares at its prey right before it pounces. It was almost a comical analogy because really Peter was nothing like a lion but in the moment you couldn’t really think of anything else to compare him to.

Finally standing up you dusted your pants off, still wet and now cold as the sun began to lower even further. It was beginning to get dark out now and you were eager to leave. Your back was turned to Peter and you couldn’t see what he was doing or that he’d stood up from his spot on the stump. Didn’t realize anything until his firm arms were wrapped around your waist and his hot breath was against your ear once more.

“Peter!” You squealed, having not expected it. He’d initially startled you but you slowly began to melt into his inviting touch. There was something about him that just felt familiar and perfect and comforting.

“We really need to get outta here. Or start calling for help.. It'll be dark soon.” You said as Peter nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. Whatever perfume you wore he was absolutely obsessed with. Or maybe it was just you. Probably both.

“But I didn’t get to make you feel good yet. It’s only fair-“ Peter pouted, teeth grazing your earlobe. A shiver went down your spine as he ground himself against you and to your surprise he was already hard again. Speedster things you presumed.

“You’re absolutely insufferable.”

“And you love it. C’mon babe just a quick fuck! They don’t call me quickie for nothing, I’ll make it worth it I promiseeeee.”

Really you knew that you should have been the voice of reason between the two of you but he was making an amazing point, plus the way that his erection was pressed up against your lower back… yeah, fuck it. You were fucking him in this stupid corn maze.

You spun around in his arms, leaning up to press your lips against his. He let out a surprised little gasp before he grinned, kissing right back, intensely eager. His hands wrapped around you and his fingers trailed up the small of your back before he cupped the back of your head in his large palm, pulling you closer.

Peter’s other hand palmed at one of your breasts, kneading it gently as he pulled away from your lips to press teasing kisses along your jawline.

“Don’t leave any marks! Peter!” You chastised him, gently shoving at his shoulder before he pulled away. His brown eyes were so dark they were almost black and it made your stomach clench, arousal seeping into your underwear.

You walked him backwards back to the stump, forcing him to sit down once more as you pulled your pants and panties down to your ankles before you positioned yourself over his lap, eyes locked onto his.

“This okay?”

“So much more than fucking okay baby, c’mere, sit. It’s comfortable I promise.” Peter was able to hold a straight face for about five seconds after the words had left his lips before he was covering his mouth and laughing into his palm before shaking his head.

“That was extremely cheesy wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Good thing I still like you.” You leaned down to whisper in his ear before you were lowering yourself onto his length oh so slowly, teasing him just a bit. Unfortunately you didn’t have time to tease him the way you wanted because the two of you really did need to get a move on, but there would be more time for that later.

You sat firmly on his lap, his dick jammed up very far inside you. So far it almost hurt. It had been a long while so it would take a minute to adjust. By the looks of it Peter would be a moment to adjust as well so he didn’t come in the first three movements of your hips.

“How’s that feeling?” You asked him, grinding down against him, hips moving in little circles as he twitched inside to you.

His hands were at your hips, kneading and grabbing at the flesh as he let out a heavy breath. “Good- so good- so much better than good.. Perfect-“ He whined, lifting his hips up just a bit to fuck up into you.

At a different time and place the two of you might have taken this all slower. Really took your time to explore each other but in a corn maze with the sun setting was not the place for that. Plus it was getting pretty chilly.

Slowly, once you’d adjusted to his size, you began to pull up and off of him before plunging yourself down again with a shaky moan, gripping onto his shoulders like they were your lifeline.

If you hadn’t grabbed onto them you’d have possibly fallen off of Peter’s lap entirely with the way he bucked up into you with newfound excitement.

“That’s so fucking good, baby- It’s actually insane… Why haven’t we done this sooner?”

“I dunno Peter, maybe because you’re an idiot who never made a move on me.”

Peter let out a breathless laugh before he tossed his head back as you clenched around him, squeezing him in the most wonderful feeling of warm, hot velvet. It was heaven.

—————————————

“I cannot believe we actually did that!” A hushed laugh came from your lips as you leaned into Peter’s side, the two of you snuggled up into bed, comfy under the covers. You were trying to be quiet and mindful of the others in the mansion that were probably long asleep by now.

Peter leaned forward and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, grinning stupidly. “Right? It was the second best thing that happened to me today.”

“Second?!” You shrieked, shoving his shoulder playfully. “Well what was first?”

“Baby I feel like you don’t know me all that well if you don’t already know I’d say the food. Of course food is always number one for me! Sorry not sorry.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Alright whatever, you’re ridiculous. We should probably head to bed. I’ve got to be up early tomorrow.”

“So I can stay?” Peter asked, looking like a child who’d been told they could stay for the sleepover they’d begged to go to.

“Yes Peter. You can stay. Of course you can.” You said, scooting closer to him and snuggling into his chest, letting out a quiet sigh.

There was silence for several moments and for a second you began to assume that Peter had fallen asleep.. That was fast.. But then he started talking again.

“Happy Halloween. Thank you for going with me. I had a lot of fun.”

“Happy Halloween, Peter.”

[sonotkari]

Meaningless

Hanni Pham x Fem reader

[ Synopsis ]

When, Where, and How did you and Hanni become so close? What was the start of the yapping duo's relationship?

Fluff

[ Word Count ]

1.6k

[ a/n ]

I'm struggling with my other fics so in the meantime I'm dropping this off to feed my children (I'm sorry I just need MORE TIME) This was just something I wrote without my two brain cells actually functioning so heads up for that info! /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

My dearest and my loved ones dis for u bae <3

Somewhere in your mind, you'd wonder how everything started but never recall the moment. Maybe it was that one time way back in March when she sent you a picture of pudding flavor ice cream because apparently, it reminded her of you. Or maybe it was when you ranted about how you had volleyball practice almost every day with no breaks making you lose your shit soon. The question of how you became so close with Hanni had come up in your mind from time to time but it would always end up with no answer. It's really not that big of a deal, where an answer was needed asap, no, it was like those shower thoughts or maybe those random questions coming up in your head at 3 am while listening to music on your headphones, something like that. Regardless, whatever or however the conversation started, you were very grateful for it because now you have someone on your side who would listen to your random yappings whether it was about that hallway crush or that annoying History teacher who mostly talks about his life rather than teaching the class. 

The memory recalls when that one time she asked about your MBTI which was trending off at that time for who knows why. You did it once before it became popular and didn't think much of it since you never really understood a thing. You just did it anyway because TikTok told you so. So why not? But to think of it now, you made a good life choice of taking a 15-minute survey with just two of your brain cells working. Because now you both were texting each other nonstop knowing you were matching MBTI's with her. "I knew it. You sound like an INFP" "What's that even supposed to mean" And in the very end, Hanni fell asleep in the middle of texting, debating whether fairies are real or not. 

Most of the time the text messages and everything else were random. Except for that one time when she got into a (not so) fight with her best friend, giving her the cold shoulder. It was about something that triggered her which made her feel uneasy. You remember clearly how Hanni had asked you to come to school earlier than you usually did because she wanted company. And how she confessed she wanted to get things back to how it used to be with her best friend while crying on your shoulder in the bathroom. Encouraging her to speak her feelings to her best friend, after some days she was smiling excitedly rushing her way to you, grabbing your arms, saying she finally "did it" telling her best friend how she felt, and now they're back on track. 

In class, she would be seated beside you and always giggle about small little things making you hold on for your dear life to not suddenly burst out laughing in the middle of the session because, for some reason, you were so easily affected by her. Her smile makes you smile, her laugh makes you laugh, and her cheeky grin addressed to you makes you roll your eyes and look at her in a sidelong look with a small smirk on your lips. Others would point out or look at you both with dumbfounded expressions because you both wouldn't stop giggling every 5 minutes and everyone in class already knew whose voices the giggles belonged to because of how frequently it would happen. 

It was before summer break had started and you were ranting at Hanni about how you won't be seeing each other once the break starts. "You'll miss me, right?" became a habit of yours to say in your everyday convos, and her replying with a "Will I tho?" made you smack the girl's arm as a set, and that also became another one of your (bad?) habits. You wanted to squeal and jump around hearing her respond "Of course" to your ask if you could randomly call her because of how you'd probably miss her a lot and feel sad out of the blue due to the lack of her presence. Talking on a call wasn't your thing because you only have two brain cells that don't function well and you left your vocabulary somewhere making you end up in a stuttering mess but, you'd rather be a stuttering mess to Hanni than spend 2 months without hearing her voice. 

One memory from another, you recall another happy moment with her. She was in the cheerleading team and you promised you'd see her cheer on the day of the game but sadly you got a high fever the night before and had to inform her you couldn't get to see her first cheer on her first game. You couldn't help but think about the disappointment in the girl's face especially when she was eager for you to come and watch. The temperature got a bit better the next day and you were debating to yourself. Yes, your head was panging in pain, yes your body was a bit hot, and yes you feel numb moving and basically doing anything. But will it be worth it to bear everything just so you could see Hanni's surprised happy expression when you go and watch her? Oh yes. You know damn well everything's worth it when it's about Hanni. 

There you were in a rushing mess, running around your room while trying to get dressed, finding the other lost pair of socks while holding a cooling gel sheet for your forehead in your hand. Running wasn't good for you since it'll make your temperature go high again but all the rushed efforts will go to waste if you missed it. Is there any other choice? Of course not, silly. By the time you got to the gates of the school, all you could hear was the rhythmical beat of your heart with your panting, trying to calm yourself before you entered the gym. Of course, she was the one who noticed you first. There it was. The face. The expression. The dimples that would show every time she smiled. Excitedly rushing to you and showering you with questions about your fever state. "Weren't you not feeling well? What are you doing here― are you okay? Are you about to pass out?" "I just couldn't miss your cheer. I for sure would've regretted it if I stayed home" Your (maybe not so bad) habit had definitely influenced her as you felt a gentle smack on your arm along with a soft giggle from the girl.

The leaves began to lose their vibrant colors, crisping up and slowly falling down with the cold breeze flowing by in November. You asked Hanni to go out and hang out in this cafe your friend told you that had the best pudding in town, which she happily agreed to, and now both of you were walking in circles at the same place lost. Having no sense of direction and the Google map not being useful at all, you decided to give up going to the place. But someone doesn't seem to be happy about it. "What do you mean, let's go to a different shop?" "No, it's fine we can just go in another time. Besides it's cold and you're not very good with the cold" You looked at the flushed red tip of Hanni's ears and nose as you mumbled. "I'm not giving up. You were so excited about the pudding, so we're going to eat that goddamn pudding" And now you were walking again with Hanni by your side but this time, you were holding hands to "keep me warm if you're that worried" 

"What are you smiling so giddily about?" You snap out of the memories and look at the girl looking at you with concerned looks. "You look creepy to be honest babe..." "Oh shut up" Replying with a playful snicker you stood up from your seat and walked your way to your girlfriend hugging her from the side, resting your chin on her shoulder. "Hey, do you remember how we became friends?" Shifting your gaze to her, slightly tilting your head as you asked so. "Uhh... I don't... think so..." She now looked at you with a puzzled look. "I think we just went with the flow" "Haha, wow I went with the flow and got a girlfriend? Must be a mastermind then" Smackng your arm, Hanni outed a chuckle. "Hey, remember when I used to smack you like that a lot but now we switched positions" "Oh I'm definitely influenced by you. Bad and good" You mocked an offended expression, holding your chest dramatically. "What's that supposed to mean...!?" Hanni laughed again and went back to making her coffee. "I definitely remember that one time you came to see me cheer with a fever" It was your turn to out a chuckle hearing her recall the memory. "Hey how about that one time we went out but then got lost midway?" "Yeah, and you insisted on finding the place, even making excuses to hold my hand" "Aaahhh shush! Shut up! I was 16 leave me alone!!" Hanni sheepishly laughed which made you laugh again as well. 

"We had meaningless conversations all the time, talking about random stuff" Sighing softly as you linger your thoughts about your past friendship with Hanni. "What do you mean, meaningless?" Hanni was now stirring her coffee, blowing it occasionally as she fixed her gaze at you. "All the conversations we had, meant everything to me" She took a sip of her coffee along with a sigh and stared at you again. You could feel the affection from her gaze and can't help but feel your chest get warmer every second with the small smile and the little dimples on her cheeks showing.

Every moment we spent together means more than anything to me than you'll ever know. 

Hanni secretly, quietly thought to her mind, while smiling at the woman she loved most.

yappers falling inlove r so cute