#dam if my stomach keep quiet after that

[tellmeabtspinos]

tummy hurt ☹️

[diamonddaze01]

fleeing feelings

pairing: hvc x fem!reader | best friend!seungkwan genre: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, university au wc: 9.6k warnings: alcohol consumption (pls drink responsibly!!) a/n: for @k-vanity 's “falling for you” event! My prompts were London Fog (“You said what to who now?! Why?!”) and Pumpkin Spice Latte (“Excuse me, but is this seat taken?”) // enormous thank you to @cheolism for the most gorgeous banner // and thank you to my lovely betas @lovetaroandtaemin and @tusswrites

summary: so you might have told vernon you loved him while drunk – now all you have to do is avoid him. forever. 

The headache is real.

It feels like someone decided your skull was the perfect canvas for a jackhammer. Each throb sends waves of pain coursing through your brain, and even the soft hum of the world outside your window seems like an assault on your fragile state. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure your last memory was of collapsing into your bed after a night of regrettable decisions, you’d swear you were dying.

You blink up at the ceiling, groaning as sunlight streams through the blinds, slicing through the dim room like a guilty conscience. Your eyes ache at the brightness, and you throw a hand over your face in an attempt to shield yourself from the assault. The cold sheets are a welcome contrast to the fire that’s raging inside your head.

You wish for sleep, but it doesn’t come. Instead, you're greeted by an annoyingly chipper voice, too loud for a Sunday morning at 11 a.m.

"Morning!" Seungkwan chirps, a little too cheerfully for someone who clearly has no understanding of the term hangover. He's holding a glass of water, like it’s the most exciting thing in the world, and you can't help but squint at him through half-closed eyes. He’s got that same gleeful smile on his face, looking way too awake for someone who shares an apartment with someone who just wants to die right now.

"Seungkwan, please... It’s too early for your brand of happiness," you croak, your voice hoarse and barely audible. Your throat feels like you swallowed sandpaper, and you barely have the strength to sit up.

"Well, it’s already late enough for me to help you feel better," he says with a grin that’s too wide to be genuine, handing you the glass of water and an aspirin like it’s some kind of miracle cure. "You don’t want to end up like last time, do you?"

You roll your eyes, trying to sit up but the world tilts dangerously. You clutch the glass like it might actually save you, your fingers trembling from the effort. "Last time?" you mutter, still a little too disoriented to make sense of anything. “I barely remember last night.”

Seungkwan’s grin stretches even wider. "Oh, last night was a memorable one," he says, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he’s got the best secret in the world.

You squint at him, struggling to keep your eyes open. "What do you mean by that?"

The moment it leaves your mouth, the memories come rushing back, one after another, like a broken dam finally giving way. You and Vernon had gone outside for some air, the cool night breeze refreshing against your skin. You remember the conversation turning quiet, the alcohol still buzzing in your veins, the way the breeze ruffled his hair, and then...

Oh god. Oh no.

You freeze, the blood draining from your face as your stomach drops. Your heart stutters in your chest as you try to piece it together. You had told Vernon you loved him. In your drunken haze, it had slipped out, but now? Now it feels like the kind of thing you would never, ever do if you weren’t so far gone on cheap whiskey and bad decisions.

You look at Seungkwan, your face crumpling in embarrassment. "I... I told Vernon... I told him I love him."

Seungkwan blinks at you, the shock clear on his face. For a second, it seems like he doesn’t even know how to respond. Then, his eyes widen comically, and a burst of laughter bursts from him. "You said what to who?!" He takes a step back, as if the sheer magnitude of your confession has physically knocked him off balance. "You confessed? To Vernon?" He cackles, his laugh loud and echoing in the quiet of your room.

You slump back against your pillow, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You wish the floor would just swallow you up. "I didn’t mean to! I was drunk—okay?" you mutter, your words barely making it out.

Seungkwan is practically vibrating with laughter. "Oh my god, you actually did it," he says between fits of giggles. "That’s so—wait, wait. What did Vernon say back?"

And that’s when the panic sets in. You stare blankly at Seungkwan, your brain spinning. You want to remember, you need to remember what he said back, but it’s a complete blank. The memory of his face, his expression, even his words—they’re gone. As if it never happened. You feel a new wave of nausea rising in your stomach.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to speak. "I don’t remember," you confess, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Seungkwan stops laughing, blinking at you like he’s just realized you might be serious. "What do you mean you don’t remember?" he asks, sounding more confused than before.

You press the heel of your hand to your forehead, trying to steady your dizzying thoughts. "I... I can’t remember what he said back. And that’s worse than not hearing anything at all."

Seungkwan’s face falters for a second, then the teasing glint returns in his eyes. "Well... you have to face him, right? He’s literally just down the hall," he points out, his voice softening as he sits on the edge of your bed. "And you’re gonna have to talk to him eventually. You can’t avoid him forever."

You frown, looking at him as if he's spoken a foreign language. "And why the hell not?"

Seungkwan leans in, his finger counting off the reasons like he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life. "One: he’s our best friend. Two: he lives down the hall, not in another universe. And three..." He pauses, dramatically. "He’s your BEST FRIEND."

You groan, rolling over and burying your face into your pillow, desperate to block out the light, the noise, and Seungkwan’s well-meaning logic. "You already said that," you mumble into the fabric, wishing the pillow could swallow you whole.

"I’m emphasizing," Seungkwan replies, sitting back in a huff. "Emphasizing that he knows you like the back of his hand, stupid. He’s not gonna let you avoid him."

You moan into the pillow. "I can’t even think about facing him right now, Seungkwan. Not today."

"Tough. You’re facing him eventually, whether you like it or not," Seungkwan says, but his voice softens, his hand brushing your back comfortingly. "But hey, I’m your best friend. I’m here to support you through whatever happens."

You just grunt in response, curling back into the pillow like it might somehow shield you from reality. "Great. As long as you’re here to watch me suffer."

Seungkwan grins, his voice full of mischief. "That’s the plan."

You can feel the weight of your poor life choices pressing down on you as you sit in the overpriced, over-crowded coffee shop, nursing the lukewarm disaster that is your latte. It's one of those days where everything tastes like regret—coffee included. Your laptop screen blurs as you try to focus on your prelab. You're supposed to be working, supposed to be productive, but all you can do is mentally list everything that went wrong in your life in the past 48 hours.

The lab professor? Completely useless. Your grade? Already plummeting. And as for the whole Vernon situation? Yeah, let's not talk about that.

You can feel the throbbing pain in your temples as your mind drifts back to that night—the confession that slipped out of your mouth when you were way too drunk. The look on Vernon’s face... God, you're so embarrassed. If there was a hole to crawl into, you’d dive right in and never resurface.

Beside you, Seungkwan is breezing through his own prelab, the same one you’re supposed to be working on, but it seems like he’s in a completely different world. As usual. He taps away at his laptop, his fingers moving in a rhythm like he’s been here for hours—when in reality, he probably hasn’t even started yet. You scowl at your laptop as the blinking cursor mocks you for not getting anything done.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together. "God, I hate this class. And I hate that professor," you mutter, rubbing your temples. "Why did I even sign up for this? Why is life like this?"

Seungkwan doesn’t look up from his screen, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Because you're a glutton for punishment. You're just mad because the only thing you're getting out of this lab is the overpriced coffee."

You huff, sloshing your latte around in its cup in a way that makes you wish you could just drown in it. "Yeah, well, I’m about to drown in this lab report if I don’t figure it out soon."

"Should’ve taken easier classes," Seungkwan snorts, and you shoot him a glare. He knows you better than anyone, and he knows you're not the type to shy away from a challenge. You don’t even have the energy to argue, so you let him win this one.

The door chimes as someone enters, and your focus breaks. You glance up, hoping it's just some random student walking in to grab their iced coffee, but no.

Of course not.

You hear that low, familiar voice, the one that makes your heart do a little flip. "Is this seat taken?"

No. No. Fuck.

There, standing by the table, looking like he belongs in some glossy magazine for college students who know how to look effortlessly cool, is Vernon. The guy you still haven’t figured out how to face after that monumental fuck-up of a confession two days ago. And now? Now he’s standing there, staring at you and Seungkwan with a hesitant smile, probably wondering if it’s safe to sit down or if you’re about to sprint out of here like a coward.

Seungkwan, the absolute bastard, beams at Vernon. "Oh no, it’s totally free," he says, too eager. He's so happy to make this as awkward as possible. You could almost feel the smugness radiating off him. "Come sit, Vernon. We could use the company!"

Your heart sinks into your stomach as Vernon takes the seat across from you, not missing the subtle shift in your posture. He looks at you with those eyes of his, eyes that are both too warm and too intense, and you feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You can’t look at him. You can’t.

You force a smile, but it feels like you’re pushing your lips together with a crowbar. "Uh, yeah. Just working on it," you mumble, barely even aware of what you just said. Your brain is too busy doing its best to not short-circuit. You take another sip of your latte, hoping the caffeine will somehow pull you together. It doesn’t.

Seungkwan, the little devil, doesn’t help at all. He’s practically radiating glee, enjoying your discomfort far too much. "Yeah, Y/N here is just dying to finish her part of the report," he says, clearly trying to get a rise out of you. "But it's okay, she’s doing just fine! Aren’t you?" He shoots you a wink, but Vernon doesn’t catch it—thank God.

Your eyes flick to your screen, looking for any excuse to not talk to Vernon right now. You just need to not look at him. "Actually, I forgot something," you blurt out, standing up abruptly, not even thinking it through. "I just... I need to grab something. I’ll be back in a second."

You don’t wait for anyone to respond. You don’t even look at Vernon as you grab your bag and make a hasty retreat to the counter. Your heart is pounding in your ears, and your breath feels shallow. This was a terrible idea. Why did you invite him to work on the prelab in the first place? Was it because you wanted an excuse to spend time with him? To not feel so much?

You don’t know.

You leave the cafe altogether, your mind racing, and find yourself walking aimlessly for a few minutes, trying to cool off. The cold air outside stings your cheeks, but it’s a welcome distraction from the heat of embarrassment still flushing through your body.

You pull out your phone, needing something to take your mind off everything. It pings almost immediately with a message from Seungkwan:

Boo 🍊: so... how long are u gonna avoid him

You laugh weakly, but it’s more from disbelief than anything else. You text back quickly:

Y/N: i’m not avoiding him

Y/N: i’m just

Y/N: strategically distancing myself until i can look him in the eye without dying of shame

Boo 🍊: ur not gonna go back to the cafe because its too much?

Your phone dings again in quick succession. 

Boo 🍊: u realize ur only making it worse right

You squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip to suppress a groan. Oh god, Seungkwan, shut up.

Y/N: i’m already halfway across campus

Y/N: oh well, can’t exactly go back now

Boo 🍊: he looks like you kicked him in the nuts and then ran away btw

Boo 🍊: i’m keeping him company 

Boo 🍊: ur not getting away with this btw i’m never letting u live this down

You exhale loudly, already feeling the weight of your decision in the pit of your stomach. What did you think would happen? You’ve messed this up royally. Again.

Y/N: I hate you so much.

Boo 🍊: no u don’t !  you’ll see him again soon. probably tomorrow

Y/N: fuck you

Boo 🍊: love u too! don’t worry i’ll handle this 

Boo 🍊: good luck with that prelab see u at home <3 

You slump your shoulders in defeat, staring at the screen of your phone. There’s no getting out of this. You’ve somehow managed to make this even more awkward. Of course, Seungkwan would drag it out. You wouldn’t expect any less from him.

You drag yourself back into the apartment, the weight of your failed escape attempt still heavy on your shoulders. The door slams behind you, and you sigh deeply, almost as if trying to shake the embarrassment off your body. You kick your shoes off and leave them by the door, your bag slung over your shoulder like a dead weight. You’re so done with everything.

The apartment feels like it’s mocking you—seemingly quiet, except for the hum of Seungkwan’s obnoxiously loud voice floating from the living room. You hear the faint click of his phone screen as you shuffle toward the couch. You can practically feel him smirking at your impending doom even before you see him.

Sure enough, when you walk into the living room, he’s lounging on the couch, sprawled across it in his usual dramatic fashion. He’s scrolling through his phone, one leg thrown over the side, looking like he hasn’t had a care in the world since he woke up. 

You throw yourself onto the couch next to him, feeling the familiar softness of the cushions sink beneath you. The weight of the last few hours presses down on your chest. It’s so comfortable here, but you can’t fully relax. Not with him sitting right next to you, clearly enjoying the aftermath of your spectacular mess.

“Don’t even say it,” you groan, pushing yourself into the cushions like they might swallow you whole.

He doesn’t even glance up from his phone. Instead, he lets out a small, knowing laugh. “So... how’s the avoidance game going?”

You just close your eyes for a moment, willing yourself to disappear. “I’m never leaving my room again. Ever.”

Seungkwan bursts into laughter, the sound filling the small apartment and bouncing off the walls. It’s enough to make your skin crawl, but you can’t help but feel a bit of a tug at your own lips. He’s genuinely enjoying your misery, and you hate it. “I mean, it’s been two days, and you’ve already chickened out at the café. That’s a solid record.”

You groan dramatically, rolling your head back against the cushion. “I didn’t chicken out. I just... needed a moment to not make eye contact with him, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Seungkwan says, his voice laced with sarcasm. “That’s why you bolted out of there like a squirrel avoiding a hawk.”

You push his shoulder weakly, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his hoodie. “Shut up, Boo. You have no idea how embarrassing it was.”

“Of course I do,” he says smugly, setting his phone down on the coffee table with a soft thud. “I was the one trying to hold a conversation with Vernon while you were having your little meltdown across campus.”

“Can we please not talk about it?” You bury your face in your hands, muffling your groan of embarrassment.

Seungkwan’s voice is dripping with amusement. “Well, you better figure it out soon. You invited him to our café session, and now you’re running away from your own mess. It’s hilarious.”

You sit up, rubbing your face in exasperation. “I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again.”

Seungkwan shrugs, his grin still wickedly satisfied. “Well, it’s not like you have much of a choice. I mean, unless you’re planning to live in that room of yours forever?”

You lean back against the couch, the soft fabric cool against your skin. You feel the weight of your thoughts settle in again, and with it, the overwhelming desire to hide from the world. “I can’t,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gonna know I’m avoiding him on purpose.”

“Yeah, he’s not that dumb,” Seungkwan says, flipping through his phone lazily. “But you know what? You could avoid him for a while. You just need to avoid... everything you’re supposed to do, forever.”

You turn your head slowly to look at him. “That’s your solution? Run away?”

“Pretty much,” Seungkwan says, completely unfazed. “But you have to be more creative. Maybe pretend you’re dead? Or like you have the plague?”

You snort, despite yourself, the idea so absurd that it almost lightens the mood. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just start wearing a sign around my neck: Please, don’t talk to me. I’m a walking disaster.”

Seungkwan grins, his eyes lighting up mischievously. “Honestly, I think it’s a good look for you.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hold back a laugh. “You’re the worst.”

Seungkwan stretches out, his grin wide and smug. “Look, I saved you today, but don’t expect me to keep doing this forever. At some point, you’re on your own.” He reaches for his phone, ready to return to his lazy scrolling.

You sit up, the absurdity of the situation hitting you in waves. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out... eventually.”

Seungkwan gives you a side-eye. “Sure you will. But for now, enjoy the free ride, disaster queen.”

It’s just your luck that, of all people, Vernon is your lab partner today. The second your professor calls your name, you feel your stomach twist into knots. You swear your internal groan echoes in the hum of the fluorescent lights above you. Why him?

Across the lab, Vernon’s already tugging on his gloves, eyeing the instructions on the counter like he’s got his shit together. You can’t help but stare at him for a second, the way his hair falls messily across his forehead, the way he moves like he doesn’t have a care in the world. The thought of having to work with him makes you feel like you’ve been thrown into a pressure cooker, and you’re about to explode.

You try to focus, really, you do. But it’s impossible. Your brain keeps wandering back to him. His fucking hums. His stupid little smile. The way his dark eyes flicker up every now and then to make sure you’re still there. It’s like he knows exactly how much he’s fucking with your head, and the worst part? He’s probably not even trying.

A Bunsen burner hisses in the background, and the sound almost makes you flinch, like it's too loud in the otherwise quiet lab. You try to focus on the beaker in front of you. Try to just get through this. But it’s hard when all you can feel is the weight of his gaze on you.

“Got it, Y/N?” Vernon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He’s leaning against the counter now, watching you with a lazy grin, like he knows what he's doing to you.

Your face flushes involuntarily, and you shoot him a tight smile, hoping to play it cool. “Yeah, got it,” you mumble, though your mind is a jumbled mess. Your hand shakes slightly as you pick up the pipette, and you swear he notices, but he doesn’t say anything. That’s even worse. You hate how easy it is for him to get under your skin.

It’s bad enough that you’re stuck with him, but now you’ve got to get through an hour-long experiment without combusting. The tension is palpable, and it’s making you want to crawl out of your skin.

But then, just as you’re about to lose it, you spot Seungkwan strutting back from the fume hood. You swear you can feel the relief hit your chest like a tidal wave. Perfect.

Seungkwan doesn’t seem to notice you until you’re already walking toward him, your feet moving on their own accord, desperate to make the switch. When he looks up, his gaze flickers over you, and that smirk creeps onto his lips. The one you know too well. The one that says, I’m going to fuck with you now.

“What’s up, Y/N?” he asks, popping his gum. “Need help with the chemical equations? Or is it more of a personal emergency?”

You throw your hands up, exasperated. “I need to switch lab partners, Seungkwan. Like, now.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Really? What’s wrong? Does Vernon’s inability to mix chemicals properly scare you, or are you just that tired of looking at his face?”

You grimace, frustration bubbling in your chest. God, why’s he gotta make it worse? “No, it’s just… I can’t focus with him staring at me every five seconds.”

Seungkwan’s smirk widens, and you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. “Oh, so that’s what it is, huh? You’re not focused because Vernon keeps looking at you like you’re his personal chemistry experiment?”

Your heart rate spikes. Fuck off, Seungkwan. “Shut up, I’m being serious,” you mutter, but you can hear the hitch in your voice, and it makes you want to punch yourself in the face.

Seungkwan doesn’t let up, leaning in closer with that same cocky grin, looking far too pleased with himself. “Is that why you’ve been staring at him for the last five minutes, then?” he teases, and you swear you can hear the little giggle in his voice. “I didn’t realize we were doing that kind of experiment today.”

Your blood goes hot. “Stop it!” you hiss, but you can’t keep the embarrassed flush from spreading across your face. “I just need you to switch with me, Seungkwan. That’s it.”

Seungkwan chuckles lowly, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Oh, okay. So you want me to switch with you just because you can’t handle the heat, huh?” He taps his chin, like he’s thinking about it, but it’s obvious he’s already decided.

“Fine,” you say, voice low but firm. “But only if you actually want me to send that video of you drunkenly crying about chickens to the entire friend group. You remember that one, right? The one where you were saying, ‘Those chickens are my babies, I love them so much’?”

Seungkwan’s eyes widen, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of panic. You almost smile, but you hold it in. Gotcha.

“No,” he says, shaking his head like he’s trying to backpedal. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” you reply smoothly, crossing your arms. You can feel the smug grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “So, how about it? You switch with me, or I make everyone’s day a little more interesting?”

Seungkwan looks around the room, clearly considering his options. He’s not stupid enough to let that video go public. “Okay, okay, fine. You win, Y/N. But you owe me for this one, big time.”

You give him a sweet smile. “Deal.”

Seungkwan walks over to Vernon, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Vernon, buddy, looks like you’re stuck with me as your partner today.”

You barely suppress a laugh as Vernon’s head jerks up in surprise. “Wait, what? Really?”

You take that as your cue and grab your stuff, moving toward Chan’s station. You’re feeling lighter already, knowing the rest of this class won’t be nearly as awkward. Chan’s a great guy—easygoing, level-headed, and most importantly, not Vernon. 

You set your bag down on the counter and look over at Chan, who’s already elbow-deep in his notes, completely unaware of the chaos you just caused. “Hey, Chan,” you say, forcing a cheerful tone despite everything. “Looks like we’re partners now.”

He looks up with a bright smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s been dragged into your mess. “Oh, hey, Y/N! Sounds good to me.” He’s so sweet and always so positive, but… well, the thing is, Chan could not for the life of him keep track of chemical reactions if his life depended on it. This could be the worst decision you’ve made today.

You sit down, a little defeated, as you adjust your gloves and open the instructions. You’re partnered with Chan now, but nothing feels quite right. As sweet as he is, chemistry might as well be a foreign language to him. You glance back over at Vernon’s lab station, which, of course, is conveniently located just a few feet away. You can hear the familiar sound of Vernon and Seungkwan’s voices drifting toward you, but you’re so not ready to face them just yet.

You feel your chest tighten as you try to ignore it, but then Vernon speaks again. “I don’t bite, Y/N,” he teases, his voice cutting through the air like a soft command. It’s casual, playful even, but it does nothing to stop the heat that floods your face.

You swallow hard, praying the blush on your cheeks isn’t visible. This is not the moment. Not the perfect moment to have him distract you. Your pulse picks up at the sound of his voice again, and you can almost feel his gaze on you. You don’t look back, but you know he’s probably waiting for a response.

“Y/N?” Chan says softly, his voice pulling you out of your mental spiral. “Are you okay?”

You quickly look away, feeling that familiar heat creeping up your neck. “I’m fine,” you mutter to yourself. “I’m fine.”

Your stomach flips as an idea strikes you—fake sick. You’ve done it before, and it’s a perfect way to buy yourself some time away from Vernon, maybe even the entire day.

Just get through this, and then you can run away forever.

Your body starts to tremble slightly as you put a hand to your forehead, doing your best to sound miserable. “Ugh, I don’t feel so good...”

Chan immediately rushes to your side, concern flashing across his face, and you can hear Seungkwan's snort of disbelief. Vernon looks at you with a furrowed brow, clearly not buying it. But he’s too polite to say anything. “You sure? You look kinda green.”

That’s your cue. You make a dramatic move, leaning over the lab counter, your hands gripping it as if you're about to collapse. Your stomach gives another exaggerated roll as you close your eyes. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” you say in a voice that’s so over the top, it sounds like it came straight out of a soap opera.

You expect Vernon to panic, maybe grab your arm to steady you, but instead, he just stares at you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Really?” he asks slowly, clearly unconvinced. "Or is it that you want to run away again?"

Oh my god. You freeze, horrified that Vernon might actually be onto you. You try to hide your terror behind your palm, rubbing your eyes like you’re just too tired to keep up the act. “No! No... I’m definitely sick,” you say with a cough for added effect.

But Vernon isn’t having it. He places his hands on his hips, shaking his head with a small chuckle. “You’re not even trying to hide it. Just admit you’re avoiding me. What’s the deal?”

You panic, fully aware that your ridiculous performance isn’t going to fool him for long. You grab your bag off the back of the chair with a look of pure desperation. “No, no! I just—uh, I need to go to the bathroom! I’ll be right back, promise!”

Before Chan can protest, you push past him, stumbling out of the lab with as much speed as your shaking legs can muster. You burst out into the hallway, nearly running into a group of students on their way to their next class. Too close. You force your breathing to steady as you walk briskly, acting like you haven’t just staged the most obvious escape ever.

You round the corner, ducking into the nearest restroom. You push open the door, locking it behind you, leaning against the cool tile wall as you try to gather yourself. What is wrong with you?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Seungkwan, of course.

Boo 🍊: i was joking when i said u should get the plague idiot

Boo 🍊: ur the worst actor i’ve ever seen

Y/N: i had to ok

Y/N: this is a nightmare.

Your phone buzzes again almost immediately. 

Boo 🍊: ur so obvious it’s kinda gross

Boo 🍊: chan’s gonna fail this lab for u. also. U NEED TO TALK TO VERNON AT SOME POINT

Y/N: not today!

It’s Friday night. One week since that confession. And honestly? All you want right now is a shot of shitty tequila, a cheap beer, and some damn good music to drown out the past seven days. You’re tired of thinking about it. You’re tired of pretending like last weekend never happened.

The second you and Seungkwan step through the door of Mingyu’s house, you're hit with a wave of noise. It’s too loud, the bass too heavy, but somehow, that’s exactly what you need. The house is packed, the kind of party that screams “let’s fuck up everything in the best way possible.” You spot Mingyu behind the kitchen counter, already wearing that signature smirk of his, mixing drinks for whoever’s brave enough to stand in line. But then—of course—your night has to take a turn.

Vernon.

He’s sprawled out on the couch, head bopping to some random SoundCloud rap, looking way too at ease in his flannel and backwards cap. Fucking perfect. You mentally groan. You’d hoped for at least a few hours of peace tonight, but apparently, that’s not in the cards.

Seungkwan nudges you, elbow digging into your side. “Well, well, well,” he says with that knowing grin. “Guess your worst nightmare is here.”

You shove him back, rolling your eyes. “Don’t make it worse.”

“Too late,” Seungkwan chirps. “Now, let’s get some tequila in your system.”

You head straight for the kitchen, not bothering with small talk. The music is too loud, the room too warm, and your head is already swimming with the thought of one thing: tequila. You pull the bottle off the shelf with the same speed as if it’s your lifeline, and without hesitation, you pour yourself a generous shot. No chaser. Just straight into your system.

Seungkwan eyes you carefully from the counter. “Careful,” he singsongs in your ear, his voice dripping with teasing. “That’s what got you into this mess in the first place.”

You shoot him a sideways glance, the corners of your lips twitching upward. “Shut up,” you mutter, then down the tequila like it’s water. The burn sears down your throat, and the warmth spreads through your chest almost immediately.

You reach for another shot when—just your fucking luck—Vernon walks into the kitchen. His eyes land on you instantly, like he knew exactly where to find you. You want to swallow him whole—no, just pretend he's not even here– but you know that’s not going to happen.

“Wow, look who’s getting to the good stuff early,” Vernon says, voice as smooth as ever. His gaze flicks down to your hand around the bottle, and then right back up to your face, and something in his eyes makes you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Seungkwan shoots you a sideways look, his smirk turning even more mischievous. With a dramatic sigh, he pushes himself off the counter, clearly done with this conversation already. “Alright, well, have fun with that,” he says in a sing-songy voice, clearly aware of how uncomfortable this is getting. Then, he makes his exit, blowing you a mocking kiss from the doorway before disappearing into the living room.

You roll your eyes at his back, shooting him a silent curse with your eyes, but the moment Vernon steps forward, all that annoyance evaporates into something else entirely. Your focus is back on him, and that damn smirk on his face.

“Didn’t know tequila was your thing,” Vernon says casually, leaning against the counter next to you. You move to pour another shot, but Vernon steps closer, cornering you against the counter with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face. The proximity is almost suffocating, and you feel your pulse spike in your neck, your heart pounding. You try not to make eye contact, your gaze fixed firmly on the bottle in your hand, as if it could somehow shield you from him.

Vernon’s smirk widens, and he leans in slightly. “Y’know, you need to look at me to make conversation,” he says, voice low and teasing.

Before you can even process what’s happening, his hand slides under your jaw, his fingers gently but firmly lifting your chin until you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and for a second, you forget to breathe. His eyes are almost burning into you, and you can’t look away—not that you want to.

For a second, you forget about everything. Your entire focus narrows to the guy standing in front of you, the guy who’s been fucking with your head for over a week now. You try to focus, try to snap yourself out of it, but damn—he looks good. Too good. That stupid backwards cap, the flannel shirt that’s just loose enough, the way his jawline sharpens under the dim kitchen light. You swallow, trying to keep your cool, but fuck, he’s too close. Too damn close. You want to push him away, but the closeness has your body freezing, every nerve on edge.

It’s the same feeling you had last week. And it’s happening again.

Fuck. No. This is not how it’s supposed to go.

Your mind races, trying to think of something, anything, to get out of this. Then—like a miracle—Mingyu strolls by, not even realizing the chaos you’re trying to keep under control. You latch onto him like a lifeline.

“Mingyu! HI!” you shout, ducking under Vernon’s arm and making a beeline for him. You grip his arm with a little too much force, probably dragging him away from whatever conversation he was having with someone else. He looks at you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but you don’t even give him a chance to ask why you’re acting like a madman.

“Long time no see! Let’s catch up!” you practically drag him out of the kitchen before Vernon can say anything, and Mingyu shoots a glance over his shoulder at you. He looks confused, but soon the music envelops you, and he happily throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you onto the dance floor.

The music is a blur of bass and off-key notes, but the tequila in your system helps dull everything, smooths out the jagged edges of your thoughts. Mingyu is practically yelling in your ear, his voice way too loud for the volume of the song, but you can’t help but laugh at his unrelenting enthusiasm. He’s screaming the lyrics to some cheesy pop song—something from five years ago that you can’t even remember the name of—but he’s grinning, and you can’t help but mirror his energy. For a moment, the heat of the room and the chaos of the party become distant, fading into the background, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you forget about Vernon. You forget about everything.

Mingyu pulls you into a ridiculous spin, and you laugh, the sound lost in the music. His arm tightens around your shoulders as he twirls you back into his chest, but just as you feel yourself getting lost in the rhythm, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s Seungkwan.

You swipe the screen without thinking, still caught in the whirl of the dance floor.

Boo 🍊:  he’s staring at you

Your heart drops.

You freeze mid-spin, suddenly feeling too warm, too exposed, like you’re still back in that kitchen, caught between the tequila, the tension, and the pull of Vernon’s eyes. The phone screen flickers in your hand, but you don’t even need to read the message again to know what it means. You know Seungkwan’s been watching the two of you dance around each other, and you know who he is. Vernon’s watching you. He’s staring.

You glance over your shoulder instinctively, and there—across the room, leaning against the doorframe—is Vernon. That tantalizing smirk is still in place, like it’s carved into his face. His eyes are on you, not even trying to hide it, and that stupid look on his face says everything. The way he watches you makes your skin tingle, and the realization hits you harder than the tequila burn in your stomach.

“Yo, you good?” Mingyu’s voice cuts through the noise, pulling you back to the present. You swallow hard, still trying to shake the feeling of Vernon’s gaze on you. You force a smile and nod, but all you can think about is the way Vernon is watching you.

“Mingyu,” you murmur, grabbing his wrist, “I think I need a drink. I’ll be right back.”

Before he can protest, you make a beeline for the kitchen again, your feet moving quicker than you can process. You need space. You need air. The heat of the dance floor still clings to your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the suffocating feeling that’s starting to build in your chest. The tequila's starting to wear off, but your nerves are still shot, and you can’t get rid of the image of Vernon leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you like he’s just waiting for you to make a move.

The kitchen’s quieter, the music a distant hum, and you’re almost grateful for the space, the absence of people. You grab the tequila bottle again, not caring if anyone’s watching. You pour yourself another shot, but before you can even bring it to your lips, you hear footsteps approaching. You don’t need to look up to know who it is.

“I think we should talk,” Vernon’s voice sounds closer than you expect. You try not to flinch, but you can’t stop yourself from stiffening. You move to step away, but then his hand is on the counter next to you, trapping you in place. You don’t want to look at him, not after everything that’s happened.

“I’m serious,” he adds, tone shifting just slightly. There’s a quiet edge to his voice, a softness you’ve never heard before, but it only makes you hesitate more.

You finally raise your gaze, and for the first time tonight, you meet his eyes. His smirk is still there, but there’s something else too—something you can’t quite place.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you say, your voice lower than you intended.

Vernon’s eyes flicker for a moment, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face, but the moment’s gone too quickly. He chuckles lightly, not mocking, but with a sense of finality.

“Fair enough.” He straightens up, taking a step back, giving you a little more space, but still standing there. “But just so you know…” His voice softens again, the teasing replaced with something a little too sincere for your comfort. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fuck. That’s it. You can’t be here anymore.

You spin on your heel, heading straight for Seungkwan, who’s been knee-deep in a Mario Kart championship with Soonyoung and Seokmin. The game is so intense that Seungkwan barely notices you storming up to him, too busy yelling at the screen as he tries to secure his victory.

“Time to go,” you say, your voice sharp enough that even Seungkwan can’t ignore it.

He looks up from his game, a little confused. “What? We just GOT HERE!”

“TIME TO GO, SEUNGKWAN,” you hiss, a little louder this time, unable to mask the frustration that’s bubbling up in your chest.

Seungkwan groans, annoyed that his Mario Kart dominance is being interrupted, but he stands up anyway, muttering something about the injustice of it all.

But then, like a fucking curse, Vernon appears in front of you, stepping into your path just as you try to make your exit. His presence feels almost too heavy in the moment, his gaze unrelenting as his lips curl into that same familiar smirk.

“Leaving so early?” he asks, voice laced with amusement, and his eyes lock on yours, steady and impossible to ignore. It makes your stomach flip, and you feel that heat in your cheeks you can’t seem to get rid of.

You avoid his gaze, turning your face just enough to escape the intensity of it. “Oh yeah, early morning,” you mumble, desperate to get out of there. “Lots of stuff to do, classes and all…”

Vernon tilts his head slightly, his smirk widening as if he can see right through your bullshit. “Tomorrow’s Saturday,” he says, voice matter-of-fact, as if calling out your feeble excuse is somehow amusing to him.

Shit.

You try to force a smile through it, but it feels like it’s made of plastic, fake and thin. You avoid his gaze like it’s radioactive. “Yeah, uh… just, you know—okay, bye!” You nearly shove Seungkwan out the door before Vernon can say another word.

The second the door slams shut behind you, Seungkwan bursts out laughing, his voice loud in the quiet of the carpark.

“You’re such a mess,” he cackles, still trying to catch his breath. “Did you seriously try to pull the early morning classes excuse? Like, no one knows tomorrow’s Saturday?”

You shoot him a middle finger, too tired to even care. “Shut up, Seungkwan. Just drive.”

He laughs harder, but at least he doesn’t push it further. Seungkwan’s car engine roars to life, and as he drives off, the weight of the night slowly lifts from your shoulders. But in the back of your mind, you can still feel Vernon’s eyes on you, like they never really left.

Dinner a week later is nothing fancy—just some ramen you scrounged up after dragging yourself through another shit show of a week. The kitchen, warm and dimly lit by the overhead light, feels like a small refuge, and for a second, you’re fine with being here. The steam rising from your bowl swirls in the air, and you twirl the noodles absentmindedly, trying to ignore the weight of everything slowly settling over you.

Seungkwan’s sitting across from you, casually slurping his ramen, but there’s something in the way his eyes flicker up, a strange glint in them, that makes you pause. The silence stretches for a moment, the kind that feels like it’s waiting for something, and then, as if he can’t hold it in any longer, he drops the bomb.

“Vernon’s coming over later.”

You freeze, a piece of noodle hanging from your chopsticks, your eyes wide. “WHAT?” You nearly choke on the noodles, the shock making you forget to swallow. “Why the hell is he coming over? Are you—seriously?”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, lips curling into a grin that doesn’t match his feigned innocence. “Just to study,” he says, shrugging like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Our lab midterm is in a couple of days, and we can’t figure out the damn ratios for the prelab.”

Your mind stutters, trying to catch up with what he’s saying. Vernon, your uncomfortably charming classmate, is coming here. Of course he is. “Seungkwan, you know I—” You stop, frustrated, searching for words that aren’t quite coming. This is your house, your space, and you’re already struggling with the thought of being alone with him. The awkward tension from the last few days suddenly feels so much heavier now.

Seungkwan, not missing a beat, looks over at you with a teasing grin. “Haven’t you run away enough? It’s been, like, almost two weeks.” He’s got that smirk on his face again, the one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing all the right buttons to get you riled up.

You glare at him, trying to muster some kind of defense, but your words come out quieter than you expect. “I’m not running away,” you snap, though it’s weak. It’s been two weeks of exactly that. “I’m just—busy. You know, college stuff.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, and you feel your resolve crumble under his knowing look. “Yeah, sure. College stuff. That’s totally why you’ve been dodging Vernon for the past week. Can’t blame you though—guy’s got a way of making things... uncomfortable.” He chuckles at his own joke, but there’s an edge of teasing that cuts too close to the truth.

You groan, rubbing your face in frustration. “Stop making this worse.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Seungkwan shrugs, his grin widening. “Haven’t you thought about actually talking to him? It’s not like you’ve got that much time before he shows up.”

“Don’t remind me,” you mutter, then, more to yourself, “I didn’t plan this. He didn’t plan this. This is... This is all just—” You stop yourself, shaking your head, your words trailing off.

Seungkwan chuckles again, but this time, it’s softer, almost like he’s giving you space to breathe. “Look, I’m just saying, maybe stop running away for once. You’ll figure it out.” He slaps you lightly on the back, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

But before you can even gather your thoughts, Seungkwan’s phone rings. He picks it up immediately, urgency lacing his voice, and you’re taken off guard.

“Seokmin?” He pauses, listening. “What? Is the fish… what? It can’t breathe??” He gasps, standing up quickly. “I’ll be right there, man, I swear! I’m coming now!”

He hangs up, looking at you, his face twisting into exaggerated concern. “Emergency. Seokmin’s fish is dying.”

You blink, disbelief painted on your face. “You’re fucking joking. You’re actually leaving me with Vernon? Alone?”

“Yup!” Seungkwan says, already halfway to the door. “You’re on your own, Y/N! Don’t burn the place down!” His laugh echoes as he bolts out, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring after him in utter disbelief.

Great. Just great.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. Your stomach does a flip, nerves bubbling in your chest. You almost consider pretending you’re not home, hiding in your bedroom until Vernon leaves. But that’s childish, and you can’t avoid this forever. With a sigh, you pull yourself to the door and open it, finding Vernon standing there, looking annoyingly comfortable with that goddamn grin on his face.

“Hi,” he says, voice teasing but warm. “So, Seungkwan tells me we’re doing some studying?”

You step aside to let him in. The last thing you want is to be rude, but the silence that follows as you both walk to the kitchen feels suffocating. You can practically feel the tension hanging in the air, thick with all the things you’ve been avoiding. His presence lingers, like it’s always been there, and yet it’s different now.

Vernon leans against the counter casually, and you busy yourself with rearranging things on the counter, anything to avoid looking at him. You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t make yourself meet them. Every time you think about what happened, your heart races, and the words you said to him feel like a blur. But they’re always there, hovering on the edge of your thoughts.

Finally, Vernon breaks the silence, his voice softer than before. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You freeze. The air in the room seems to tighten, and his words land with the weight of a trap you didn’t see coming.

“What?” You try to laugh it off, but the sound comes out rough, more strained than you intended. “Pshhhh nooooo.”

“You have.” Vernon pushes off the counter, stepping closer to you. His movements are deliberate, but there’s a softness in them as he closes the space. His eyes remain locked on yours, steady and searching, like he’s waiting for you to crack, to finally admit something. You can’t look away, your breath shallow, the pulse at your neck pounding hard. “And you can’t even look me in the eye. Did I do something wrong?”

His voice is gentle, almost too gentle, and it makes your chest tighten. You shift uncomfortably, your arms folding across your body, a silent defense against the intensity of his gaze. The room feels smaller now, every inch of space filled with the heat between you. You feel trapped, your heart hammering in your chest, yet there's nowhere you'd rather be—and that's the problem.

“No, Vern, I just—” You stop, sucking in a breath, trying to steady yourself. “I said something I didn’t mean the other night.”

Vernon’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something in them—recognition, maybe? The way his lips part slightly, a mix of confusion and understanding. “You didn’t mean it?”

The words hit like a physical blow, and your stomach twists. You want to take them back, but instead, you find yourself retreating into yourself, avoiding his gaze. “I—what?”

“Did you mean it?” Vernon presses, and you swear you can feel his gaze like a weight on your skin. He’s not backing off, not letting this go.

You’re caught. You open your mouth, but no words come out, and the silence between you feels like it’s suffocating. You feel the heat rising to your face, your hands trembling by your sides.

“Mean what?” you finally manage, voice quieter than you’d like.

He steps even closer now, his body inches from yours, and his gaze doesn’t falter. His lips barely part as he speaks, the words lingering in the air between you. “Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N. You told me you loved me.”

The room spins, the ground beneath you feeling unsteady. You blink, your chest tightening as the memory of that night rushes back, sharp and overwhelming. Your hands move restlessly, clutching at the counter as if it’ll keep you from falling.

“But I was drunk—” You stumble over the words, desperate to explain, but his gaze doesn’t waver. His eyes are steady, unwavering, and you can’t escape them.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” Vernon says softly, his voice firm, but there’s no anger in it—only a certainty that rattles you.

“I just didn’t mean to put you on the spot—” You try again, but this time, he stops you, his tone more reassuring than you expect.

“You didn’t,” he says quietly, his hand reaching out, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face in a surprisingly tender gesture. “You didn’t put me on the spot.”

“Okay?” you ask, your voice uncertain. You can’t tell if you’ve just misunderstood everything or if this moment has shifted entirely. You blink at him, still trying to catch up.

Vernon smiles then, a soft, almost affectionate smile, and the air between you shifts. The tension eases just a little, but it’s still thick, like something’s hanging in the balance. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“No…” you whisper, the words coming out almost too quietly, but Vernon just laughs.

“I said I loved you too, idiot.”

You freeze. The words crash into your chest, and you feel the ground tilt beneath you again. This time, it’s harder to recover from. “You—you WHAT?”

Vernon chuckles, his grin widening, and this time, it’s teasing, almost mischievous. “Come on,” he says, stepping closer. His chest is almost brushing yours now. “I love you too. Can you stop running away now?”

“I WASN’T!” you protest, but the words fall flat, not convincing even yourself. Your body is tense, but his proximity makes your heart race in a way you don’t quite understand.

“You were,” Vernon says, his smirk softening just enough to catch you off guard. You feel your knees go weak at the way his gaze softens, like he’s pulling you into something you’re not sure you’re ready for. “But it was kinda cute, y’know?”

Before you can even think of a response, he's right there, too close—like, uncomfortably close. His presence feels like it’s swallowing up all the space between you, and suddenly, you’re backed up against the counter, like he’s somehow managed to get you cornered without even trying. It’s all too familiar, too much like that night at the party. You can’t help but stiffen, but it’s not bad, just... intense.

You can feel the heat radiating off him now, like it’s pulling you in, and the way he’s leaning in just enough that you can’t help but tilt your head to meet his eyes—your heart starts hammering in your chest. Too close. Way too close. Your body wants to take a step back, but you don’t, mostly because you’re pretty sure you’re not even sure where to go from here.

And he knows it. You can see it in the way he’s standing, like he's completely unbothered, like it’s no big deal that he’s got you backed up into a corner. Your shoulders feel tense, but your feet just stay planted where they are, like they’ve been glued to the floor. His gaze locks with yours, and you can feel that pull, that thing that makes it hard to breathe—like your chest is getting tight and you’re not sure if you want to run or stay.

There’s this low buzz in the air between you two, and you don’t know how much of it is him or how much is just your heart freaking out. His breath is right there, close enough that you’re aware of the way it catches every time you look at him. And you can’t even tell if you’re annoyed at how close he’s gotten or if your mind is too distracted by how nice it feels to have him this near.

You’re trapped, but you’re not sure if you mind it. It’s like your chest is about to burst from the tension, or maybe it’s going to stop completely. Either way, you're not entirely sure which one you're hoping for.

“No more running,” he murmurs, his voice low, steady, eyes never leaving yours. There’s no doubt in his tone, no hesitation, like he’s already made up his mind. The space between you two feels charged now, the air thick with the unspoken.

“No more running,” you echo, the words slipping out before you can stop them, and for the first time, they feel right. You’re not sure why, but you believe it.

And then, Vernon leans in, his lips brushing against yours.

The kiss is slow, soft at first, like he’s giving you space to catch up. His lips are warm and a little sweet, tasting faintly of mint from the gum he’s been chewing earlier. You inhale through your nose, catching the subtle scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of wood and citrus—that wraps around you like it’s always been there, like it’s familiar. Every part of him seems to make the world outside feel distant, unimportant. The tension, the uncertainty, the past few days—they don’t matter anymore. 

The pressure of his lips increases, more certain now, and the warmth of his mouth sends a flutter through you. You lean in, responding, your hand instinctively finding the chain around his neck, pulling him closer, as if you can’t quite get enough of him. It’s slow, deliberate, like he wants to savor it just as much as you do. For the first time in days, everything feels like it’s in its right place.

When he pulls back, it’s just enough to speak, his lips still lingering on yours. “Y’know,” he says with a playful grin, “We could’ve been doing this two weeks ago if you weren’t so emotionally constipated.”

You laugh, breathless, pulling him closer by his chain. The heat creeping up your neck is almost unbearable. “Shut up,” you protest, half-smiling. “You can’t blame a girl for what she says when she’s drunk.”

“I won’t,” he agrees with a smirk, kissing you again, this time a little more urgently. “But I can’t make any promises about Seungkwan.”

From the hallway, you hear Seungkwan’s unmistakable voice, a triumphant cheer echoing from the door.

[writingoddess1125]

Bigger House

Fluffy Fluff Corny shit-

Next Part >>>

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FemReader

<<< Previous

You were sitting on the couch reading a book and dozing off, It had been a quiet few weeks since you'd sent the letter to Simon telling him of your pregnancy.

It had been radio silence which you expected in truth, however you were mildly worried of the conversation that would be had soon. You didn't know gow he would react or if he hated the card surprise you'd given him- However you suppressed the anxiety that built in your chest and instead focused on the book at hand.

The sound of a fast moving car caught your ear however- Your senses going on high alert as the sound of someone jumping from the clearly barely parked car- You starting to scan for were Simon kept a pistol in the room-

You damn near jumped from your skin as the door of the cabin suddently slammed open, there stood Simon still in his gear and scanning the room clearly looking for you. Ripping the mask from his face quickly as he stared at you in total shock and awe-

"Is it true?" He said suddently, an unfamiliar panic in his eyes which made you set the book to the side and nod. Grabbing the stack of doctor pages and ultrasounds on the coffee table holding them out to him.

He practically threw off his vest and duffel bag across the room and sat next to you on the couch quickly going through the stack of papers infront of him. It was like he was going through a mission file before your eyes, absorbing every drop of information there on the pages.

Still coming down from the mini heart attack from the clearly frazzled man you watched him- the bags under his eyes was worse and he looked a bit shaggier then normal, Clearly in his own head.

"Simon are y-?" You try to get in, but he reached a hand out grabbing you and hugging you tightly. Nothing was said just yet but you held the man, feeling a tension and light tremors in his arms as he held you.

Rubbing his back gently you let the two of you have the moment of just reveling in the sweet bliss of being with each other.

After 30 minutes of this you two untangled from each other and began to settle, Simon listening to you chatter about the scans, the side of the babies and looking at things you'd need. The soilder chuckling as he shook his head-

"Yeah I've already started that too.. we need a damn van-" He said spacing at the thought, you couldn't help but find the idea of Simon in a Minivan hilarious.

"Oh! Did you like the card?" You ask sweetly, seeing his shoulders stiffen at the mention of it.

Simon gave you incredibly serious look at you- "Swear no laughing-" He said as seriously as a heart attack. Your browser raising at his absolute insistence of you keeping whatever it was a secret.

"I swear?" You agree, now highly curious of what had happened to your dear husband when he found out.

"...I passed out when I read it and was sent to the medbay for 24hrs- and Price saw it.." He grumbled, staring you hard in the eyes as you bit your cheeks and tried to keep as even of a face as possible.

"D-Did you?" You managed to wheeze out trying to suppress the laugh that was bubbling in your chest.

Simon sent a half ass glare your way which broke the dam made you laugh- Loudly. He rolled his eyes and mutter something along the lines 'Swear my Ass' Waving him off as you sat there, Simon however softened his glare and reached a hand forward and touching your stomach with gentle hand.

"They are really in there-"

He muttered, still shocked by the idea of his children inside. You smile at him and gently caress his naked face, feeling the stubble against your fingertips.

[dabuggh3]

Heyyy Can you write smth cutesie abt picking hamzah up after he gets too overwhelmed at comic con. I couldn’t stop thinking abt it the whole time watching it was rly funny😭😭😭 Please and Thank you

HIII YESS, no because when I was watching the video and I literally started getting anxious because of how overwhelmed he was. I paused the video😭. But anyways thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoyyy!!💗

Hamzah calls you to come pick him up from comic con because they were done shooting the video for slushynoobz. You get in your car and head over, you arrive and he gets in the car. The first couple mins were quiet, “ So how did it go?, did you like it?”. “ uh it was good there were so sooo many people on one of the floors it was actually crazy, we had to sit down for literally half of it” You look over at him and he was holding something.

“ What did you buy?” He looks down and starts bursting out laughing as he shows you, my little pony oven mitts. “ Hamzahhh” you say laughing. “ Waitttt, okay me and Martin were passing by and there was just like a huge ass stack and we were like what’s this, and we started talking shit and the lady was like oh they’re home made, they’re home made like 5 times, and idk what came over me and I just bought them.”

“ They’re kindaaa cute” you say looking at them. “ I wasted like 30 dollarssss, I saved 5 dollars tho, we bargained with the lady ” he says smiling. “ 30 dollars is actually crazy, but they’re homemade remember”. “ Stoppp, oh my god and someone called Martin the skinniest Spiderman they’ve ever seennn”. You laugh , “ that’s so meann”.

“Babe I swear I was looking at some people and I literally wanted to gag so bad I don’t even know why”. He continues talking then he goes silent, just staring at you,“ What’s wrong” “ You’re so pretty you’re glowingggg” he says admiring you. You turn and smile at him. “Even on shrooms, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen”

For the rest of the drive he continues talking, pointing at random signs, and telling you what he’s seeing. You guys arrive, parking into you’re apartment complex, “ Yea and Martin went over and asked him for a hug and I was like boy he don’t want no dam hug from youu, the guy looked so scared I recorded it.” You both laugh so hard, “ Okay we’re here let’s go” “ Huh, I swear the car was still moving”

You guys enter the apartment, and Hamzah changes then plops down on the couch. “ Do you wanna eat something orrr” “ No I’m okay I’ll eat later” “ Okay” you walk over and sit next to him, “ Want to watch something” you look over at him as he sits with his head back eyes closed, “ uhhh yea,” he opens his eyes and turns looking at you. He smiles and leans over to kiss you. He then positions himself, laying on your chest. “ Do you wanna watch Arcaneee??” You say in an excited tone.“ Yesssss” he says smiling.

You and Hamzah lay on the couch as you rub his back. And he keeps pointing out random stuff from the show that he’s never noticed, “ wait was that always there I swear it wasn’t”. 30 minutes pass by and while laying down, you feel his stomach growl. “ Babe are you sure you’re not hungry?” “ No” “ I literally felt you’re stomach growl right now, ima go make you something” you try getting up. Hamzah holds onto you harder while making himself heavier, “ I’m not hungry, don’t leave” he says muffled because his face is buried in your chest. “ I’ll take like 20 mins and I’ll be right back, I’m literally right here next to you in the kitchen”. “ No”. “ Okay then come with me”

Eventually Hamzah agrees and comes with you to the kitchen. You end up making him a sandwich. While making it Hamzah is just hugging you from behind, watching. “ Are you sure the mayo’s not expired, it’s kinda a weird color” “ No it’s not, trust me”. You finish and go back on the couch. Hamzah sits back down and eats his sandwich. He then goes on a whole rant how Martin didn’t want to finish watching Arcane and he’s missing out. Then he starts talking about the slushies, “ I hope they actually enjoy the video, I feel like we looked so dumb” he laughs. “ Nooo, they’ll enjoy it dont worry”. Eventually he starts getting tired so he starts quieting down and ends up falling asleep.

I hope this isn’t horrible 😭.

[spicyclover]

The maid and the Spaniard

A red-headed maid, Y/n, encounters her mysterious employer, Carlos, a famous F1 driver known for his dark roles. Their first meeting in the kitchen leads to a steamy affair, filled with passion and raw desire. 

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

Y/n, a young and vibrant redhead, had been working as a maid at Carlos's luxurious house for a few months now. She found herself drawn to the solitude of the house, enjoying the peace and quiet as she went about her daily chores. Her job was simple: keep the place spotless, especially after the frequent parties Carlos hosted. Y/n took pride in her work, ensuring every corner was pristine, and she often stayed late to finish her tasks.

On this particular day, Y/n was tidying up the kitchen after a lavish dinner party. She wore a simple yet seductive outfit, a tight black tank top that showcased her ample cleavage and a pair of skimpy denim shorts that hugged her curvy hips and accentuated her long, slender legs. Her red hair was tied up in a messy bun, with a few stray strands framing her beautiful face and accentuating her blue eyes.

As she wiped down the counters, her thoughts drifted to the mysterious owner of the house. Carlos was a renowned f1 driver known for his dark, brooding roles, and Y/n had yet to meet him in person. She had heard stories of his wild parties and his even wilder personal life, but he had been away driving schedule for most of her employment.

Suddenly, the sound of the refrigerator opening startled her. Y/n turned around to find Carlos standing there, his dark, piercing eyes taking in her appearance with a smoldering intensity. He was a tall, imposing figure, with dark hair and a three-day beard shadowing his chiselled jaw. His broad shoulders filled the kitchen doorway, and Y/n felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," she stammered, her heart racing. "I was just finishing up after the chef. I didn't expect anyone to be home."

Carlos's deep, Spanish accent filled the room as he took a bottle of water from the fridge. "No need to apologize, princessa. I just got back from a gruelling training session for my next race. "I could use a massage, to be honest." He took a sip from the bottle, his gaze never leaving Y/n's flushed face.

Feeling bold, Y/n smiled and asked, "Long day, sir? Anything else I can get for you?" She was aware of her suggestive tone, but something about Carlos's presence made her want to push boundaries.

Carlos's eyes narrowed, and a devilish smirk played on his lips. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? I like that." He took a step closer, his muscular frame exuding raw masculinity. "A massage would be lovely, and perhaps a little company."

Y/n's breath quickened as she imagined running her hands over his broad chest and powerful arms. She blushed, feeling a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "Um, sure. I could... I mean, I can give you a massage." She turned back to the counter, feigning concentration on her cleaning.

But Carlos had other plans. He moved swiftly, pressing his body against her from behind, trapping her against the counter. Y/n gasped as she felt his hardness pressing into her lower back, and her breath caught in her throat.

"You're a naughty little thing, aren't you?" Carlos whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. His strong hands cupped her breasts through her top, squeezing gently as he teased her nipples to hardness.

Y/n moaned softly, her body betraying her as she leaned back into him. "Oh, sir... please..."

Without warning, Carlos spun her around and pushed her onto the counter, his hands roaming over her body. He grabbed her ass, squeezing and kneading the plump cheeks, and she squirmed beneath him. "You like that, don't you, you little slut?" he growled, his voice rough with desire.

Y/n's eyes widened as she felt his hand slide between her thighs, his fingers stroking the damp fabric of her panties. "Oh God, yes..." she breathed, her hips rising to meet his touch.

Carlos chuckled, his breath hot against her neck. "You're so wet, my dirty girl. I can smell your desire." He ripped her panties aside and slid a finger into her hot, tight pussy, his thumb seeking out her clit.

"Carlos!" Y/n cried out, her body arching as he worked his magic. "Oh, please, don't stop..."

He added another finger, stretching her open as he thrust his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing her swollen bud in circles. Y/n's moans filled the kitchen as her orgasm built, her juices flowing freely around his invading digits.

"That's it, come for me, you naughty hore," Carlos growled, his accent thick with desire. "Let me feel your sweet pussy milking my fingers."

Y/n's body shook as her climax tore through her, her pussy clenching and releasing his fingers in a pulsing rhythm. "Oh, God!" she cried, her head thrown back, exposing the delicate line of her neck.

Carlos's eyes darkened as he watched her ecstasy, and he bent his head to claim her mouth in a savage kiss. His tongue invaded her, tasting her essence, and she responded eagerly, her hands gripping his shoulders.

Breaking the kiss, Carlos growled, "I can't wait any longer, love. I need to be inside you."

Before Y/n could respond, he lifted her onto the counter, her legs wrapping around his waist. With one swift motion, he tore her top and bra aside, baring her heaving breasts. He bent his head, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak.

Y/n cried out, her back arching as pleasure and pain mingled in a heady rush. Carlos's hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wide as he positioned himself at her entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his cock stretching her to the limit.

"Ahhh!" Y/n cried out, her body adjusting to his size. "You're so big..."

Carlos began to move, his hips snapping forward as he pounded into her relentlessly. The counter creaked beneath them, and Y/n's breasts jiggled with each thrust, her nipples hardening further.

"Yes, take it all, you beautiful bitch," Carlos grunted, his face a mask of pure pleasure. "Feel my cock fucking that sweet cunt of yours."

Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her body. Carlos's cock hit her G-spot with every stroke, and she could feel her orgasm building again, more intense than the last.

"Oh, God, I'm going to come again!" she cried, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Carlos reached between them, his fingers finding her clit as he pounded into her. "Come for me, Y/n," he commanded, his voice hoarse with need. "Let me feel your pussy squeezing my cock as you climax."

Y/n's body exploded in a cascade of pleasure, her pussy gripping him like a vise as she came hard around his invading shaft. Carlos groaned, his own release building as her muscles milked him.

"Fuck, yes!" he roared, his hips jerking as he emptied his balls deep inside her. Spurt after spurt of hot cum filled her, and Y/n relished the feeling of his release.

As their orgasms subsided, Carlos pulled out of her, his spent cock glistening with their combined juices. He smiled down at her, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "That was incredible, princessa. Just what I needed after a long day."

Y/n smiled back, her body still buzzing with pleasure. "Anytime, sir," she purred, her voice breathy. "I'm always happy to help."

Carlos chuckled, his hand stroking her hair. "I have a feeling we'll be helping each other a lot more in the future, Y/n. I have a feeling this is just the beginning."

And with that, he kissed her gently, his lips brushing hers before he straightened and headed for the stairs, leaving Y/n lying on the counter, a satisfied smile on her face.

[cult0fdionysus]

Outside the party.

Ghost x Reader

Word count: 682

CW: drinking, smoking, talks of death, stab wounds, angst, hurt/comfort, my writing, lmk if i missed any!!

A/n: This is my first one shot, so any feedback is welcome, and i hope this makes sense. Requests are open!!

The music fades out into the hall as you meet the floor pulling your legs up to your chest, the bottle of whiskey you brought discarded to your side.

You just got home from a mission, one that set the whole team off kilter. Soap had the idea to throw a little party as a celebration of not dying out in the field. you thought this was morbid. But if it cheered Soap up you were all for it.

This particular mission left you feeling numb, a sort of feeling you are used to after a mission but this time it scared you a little. It has never felt this intense before. During the operation you were caught in a fight with two men, the incident left you with two stab wounds. As you think about it now a nauseous feeling boils in your stomach, and a tinge of pain ripples from the wounds on your thigh and shoulder.

Picking up the whiskey you throw back a swig, the amber liquid invites a delicious burn as it goes down your throat. The door to the common room where the little party is creaks open, at the sound of the heavy footsteps you don't other to turn and look who it is, as you already know.

"What are you doing out here?" The gruff voice of your Lieutenant drifts over. He walks over and joins you on the ground. You finally look over at him, he's still wearing the black balaclava but without the skull mask on it.

"The party was getting loud, so I came out here. For quiet," You pause then add "Now i'm just thinking."

"Thinking of what?" Ghost asks. Anyone else would find it odd he is actually interested in what you are feeling or thinking about, but for some reason there has always been this little bond you and ghost share. Something you've always fantasized about being more.

"How I almost died, can't get that moment out of my head." You state as you stare blankly to the wall in front of you. Your throat gets caught up and your eyes start to water.

"I was so scared...I'm still so scared." You say a stray tear falling down your face.

Ghost reaches over as he hums in acknowledgement and wipes the tear from your face with his glove clad hand. "I understand," He says in just above a whisper.

You turn to look at him, the tears coming more and more. Your voice wavers, and ghost can barely hear you over the thrum of music in the next room as you say, "I don't want to die."

His heart shatters and in that moment he almost breaks, he vows to himself that no matter what he will protect you from the things that scare you no matter what.

"Oh love," He whispers as he moves the bottle of whiskey to the side and pulls you into his arms. The dam breaks and sobs shake through you as he holds you, the louder the sobs the tighter he hold. As if he is trying to keep you from shattering completely. "I'm here, i'll always be here."

In that moment he realizes that he loves you, all those times he denied having those feeling, all those times he's cared for you more than the other with the excuse he is your superior fades away.

He picks you up leaving the alcohol on the ground and carries you to your room.

"Can i get you into some more comfortable clothes?" he asks after he sets you down on your bed. You nod, and he grabs some sweat pants and a tank top.

After you change he pulls off his mask and pulls you into his arms, whispering a "is this okay?" You nod into his chest as his arms tighten around you.

You've never felt so safe before, like nothing bad can happen when your in his arms. As you drift off into a peaceful sleep he leaves a soft kiss on your head as he too lulls to sleep.

[spicybeefnoodles]

giving reassurance

summary: ashrah helps syzoth

warnings: none :)

Syzoth was having a hard time adjusting to the life of ambassadorship. Before he became the ambassador for Zaterrans, he had been hated and isolated from his peers. Even his own family left him alone, opting to keep him locked in the house for his freakish transformations. When he had joined a traveling circus, showcasing his abilities, people had looked at him in awe and wonder, poking and prodding at his skin. They had looked at him like an object, something to play with until they could move onto the next toy.

With his new position, he was suddenly served with respect and banquets and celebrations that he didn’t really know how to handle. And then with the discovery that his ability to shapeshift had been prosecuted within his community, it had sent him into a paranoid spiral that someone was constantly after him.

A soft hand rubbed soothing circles into his back, and Syztoh sighed at the contact.

The one constant in his life since escaping Shang Tsung’s lab had been Ashrah. She had been so kind to him, never looking at him like he was something strange or something exotic. With Ashrah, Syzoth didn’t have to worry about being an experiment, a prosecuted ability, or an ambassador. He could just be Syzoth. With Ashrah, he could take the time to mourn his family, his wife and son that had died so tragically in Shang Tsung’s hands. He would hunt down the sorcerer soon enough, get his revenge and make sure to rip out the sorcerer’s throat with his teeth.

But for now, Ashrah was here with him, massaging circles into his back and releasing the tight knots in his back. She hummed as she worked, working diligently to work out any points of tension. She had gotten significantly better at massaging since training at the Wu Shi Academy with the other monks.

“Syzoth.” Ashrah let his name linger in the air, thinking about how to choose her next words. “What is on your mind? You only ever come to Earthrealm when something is wrong.”

The Zaterran sighed and turned over on the massage bench and sat up. “It’s just… everything has changed so much in the past few months. And, I don’t know if I’m cut out for it. I just-”

Syzoth cut himself off as he heard his voice start to tremble, the familiar closing of his throat and the pain in his chest stabbing at his heart. In Shang Tsung’s lab, he kept his crying to a minimum. The sorcerer had particularly enjoyed inflicting pain when Syzoth was emotionally vulnerable. He was unlearning the habit, but sometimes he still closed himself off to the world.

Ashrah placed a comforting hand on Syzoth’s own hand, waiting patiently for the Zaterran to express himself.

“I don’t think I can be who they need me to be.” Syzoth finally whispered out the last part, and a few strays of tears dripped down his face. He quickly wiped them away with his other hand, but Ashrah brought her hand up to cup Syzoth’s face. And the dam broke.

He started sobbing full, messy hiccups and loud sniffling filling the room as Ashrah brought Syzoth in for a tight hug. She traced circles on his back as he cried. When he finally calmed down, only the quiet sniffles and red-rimmed eyes showing the evidence of his crying, Ashrah finally spoke.

“Syzoth. You should not need to change yourself to benefit others' needs. You should not live for others. You should live for yourself.” Ashrah pulled away from the hug, and Syzoth nodded.

“Thank you, Ashrah.”

“Of course. Now, lay back down. I still need to perfect my technique.” Ashrah smiled, and Syzoth chuckled. He lay back down on his stomach and under the warmth of the sun and Ashrah’s hands, he felt himself be lulled to sleep, and he smiled.

[flowerpotmage]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (13)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest.If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for series: slow burn, ambiguous relationship, found family dynamics, reader is in their late 20s.

Word Count: 3.7k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

Miguel is never sure which one of you is the first to fall asleep when he stays over, but he seems to always wake up first.

You're nestled into the sheets, facing him. You still can't lay on your other side, and he finds that he's beginning to miss the feeling of your back against his chest, the ability to wrap an arm around your front and press his face close to your neck, into your hair, and breathe you in.

His eyes trace over the curve of your eyelid and your eyelashes, spies the fallen one on the side of your nose and has to stop himself from wiping it off and waking you in the process. In another world, maybe he could casually pinch it off your nose and cheekily tell you to make a wish when you wake, apologizing afterwards for waking you by pressing kiss after kiss to the place the eyelash had landed—followed with a kiss to your cheek and then the soft delicate skin of your eyelid.

His throat tightens at the thought. He wonders if the Miguel from Earth 209 ever woke the other you up in such a way, with a little joke and countless sweet kisses.

His gaze drops down to your lips, lingers there, before tracing the line of your shoulder, your arm, and down your side to watch you breathe. In, out. In, out. The steady rhythm relaxes him, like white noise of waves across sand.

Then you shift, waking, and when your eyes blink open the first thing they focus on is him. Your sleepy smile lifts the corners of your mouth.

“Eyelash,” he whispers. He follows his previous impulse now that you’re awake and looking at him so softly, reaching with one hand to gently take your eyelash off the side of your nose, holding it up in front of you as you wrinkle your nose and rub away the tickle of his light touch.

You raise your eyebrows slightly. Your eyes flick from his to the tip of his finger, and your hand grabs his wrist gently, lifting your head off the pillow.

Miguel’s stomach flips as you blow the lash off his index finger, smooths his face into neutrality so you can’t read the thoughts that cross his mind at the sight of your rounded lips so close to his finger. And he's certain he imagines it, the way your touch lingers and you take just a second too long to put your head back down on the pillow.

“What did you wish for?” He asks, his voice far quiet and lower than he meant for it to be as he rests his hand on the mattress between the two of you. He tells himself it's to keep the softness of the morning unbroken, hopes that's what you think it is too.

You smile again, a hint of mischief in your eyes and in the purse of your lips. “Do you not have the rule about keeping wishes secret in your dimension?”

Miguel can't help but smile back. “Well, I mean…”

You gasp in faux indignation. “Miguel!” You say, pushing his shoulder with your hand, and his heart jumps at the contact. “Then you know I can't tell you!”

“Maybe I can help with it,” he says, lifting a hand in surrender at your shove.

You blink, swallow, freeze for a fraction of a second, before rolling your eyes and tucking your hand under your pillow. “Yeah, nice try O’Hara. I’m taking it to the grave.”

A brief image flashes through his mind. Miguel-209, shaken and telling him about–

Miguel shakes his head. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He sits up, raises an eyebrow at you as he looks down. Over his shoulder at you.

You raise your eyebrows, the perfect picture of innocence. Go on, your expression says.

He twists to face you, leaning towards you on his hands. “Even if it involves pancakes, and I make them for you right now?”

You mime zipping your lips shut, locking them, and flicking away the key.

He chuckles, shakes his head, and gets up.

His smile grows when you chuckle in return, feeling your eyes on him as he leaves your bedroom. He manages to get out ingredients for breakfast before the sound of you rising for the day catches his ear, pulling his gaze over his shoulder to watch you amble out of the bedroom—your bedroom—and into the living room.

You rub your eyes, smiling at him tiredly. “Cooking again?”

“Someone has to,” he quips, placing the carton of eggs from your fridge—the carton he bought and placed there—on the counter.

“My personal chef and hero. If only the citizens of Earth-928 could see their Spider-Man now,” you tease, stifling a yawn. “Can I help?”

Miguel pauses, looks at you, sleepy-faced in your wrinkled pajamas.

“Alright.”

You watch, standing in the entrance to the kitchen—your kitchen—as Miguel pulls out cheese and an assortment of vegetables (that you certainly did not purchase yourself) from the fridge. He raises an eyebrow at you mid turn, goes from the counter to a cupboard and pulls out your single cutting board and a chef’s knife.

He gestures you to come over, and you do, shuffling up beside him.

Miguel shows you how to properly cut a bell pepper, how to dice garlic and cube potatoes and mushrooms, his deft hands making quick work of the knife. Your own work is slower, sloppier—you’re not nearly as practiced or awake as he is.

While you chop away, Miguel watches, scrambling eggs in a bowl with a little milk and grated cheese mixed in, for fluff and flavor respectively.

“Not bad,” he says, coming back over to you and your messy cutting board when you finish and set the knife aside.

He does the rest of the work, egg into the pan with the chopped veggies and a sprinkle of salt and pepper. He feels you watch him work while leaning against the opposite counter, tired and peaceful, lulled into a calm and comfortable trance by the smell of food cooking and the relaxed way he stands at the stove.

(You’re glad his back is to you, when you realize you’ve been staring, entranced, at his tricep and the way the sleeve of his shirt slides across it with the movement of his arm.)

He plates breakfast, of course, a dollop of salsa on each that spreads and drips over the golden surface.

“Couch?” you ask, and he nods, following you out of the kitchen. He hands you your plate when you’ve sat, and then joins you, settling in at the other end of the couch. “Thanks for breakfast,” you offer with a smile.

He pauses, glances over your face. “When you’re better it’ll be your turn.”

“Are you sure you want that?” you raise an eyebrow, smiling wider. “Do you even know if I can cook?”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” he shrugs, and then his lips smooth into a smirk. “At least to watch.”

You chuckle. “You just wanna see me make a fool out of myself.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, lifting his first bite of breakfast to his mouth. He shrugs, a glimmer of mischief in his eye and across the lift of his cheek.

You shake your head, amused, and start eating too, turning on the TV. An officious blue background and rolling words at the bottom fill the screen, while a blonde woman in a red blazer speaks into the camera.

“It’s now been two weeks since our city's Spider, local hero and masked vigilante, was last spotted at the scene of a hostage situation at Club Scorpion where several individuals were maimed and at least three individuals died. Though the perpetrator of the violence was never apprehended, and the victims were originally a group of criminals hoping for a ransom in exchange for the nightclub’s wealthy clientele, popular speculation and police reports suspect this to be the work of Carnage.”

The way you stop eating doesn’t escape Miguel’s notice.

“Eyewitness accounts all corroborate the same story; Spider entering through the top of the building and clearing the room of civilians before engaging the presumed suspect, Carnage—”

“I’m glad they think it’s Carnage,” you murmur. “Eddie and Venom have been working hard to stay clean.”

“-injured, and has not been seen since. Concerned citizens can only wait and hope our hero returns. We go now to eyewitness testimony—”

You turn off the television.

“You’ll be back out there in no time,” Miguel says. “And your city has other heroes to help while you heal.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, poking at the omelette on your plate.

“Looks great,” Dr. Parker says, letting you cover up your ribs after having checked them and your leg. “You’ve been taking good care of them.”

You smile, albeit somewhat sheepishly. You’ve barely been taking care of anything the last two odd weeks: It’s all been Miguel. Miguel changing your bandages and making you food and reaching for things on high shelves and—

“You’re probably fine to lift your arms, but I wouldn't start web swinging again for at least a week.”

“Thanks Doctor Parker,” you reply, smile grateful despite your impatience to get back to being Spider.

“You know, you’re one of the only people here to call me by my actual name when they come in,” he says, hands clasped and seated on his rolling stool.

“Well, calling you ‘Doctor Spidey’ feels weird after meeting a literal spider with a medical degree,” you shrug.

Dr. Parker chuckles.

“Can I have a note for work?” you ask. “They think I’ve been out for two weeks with a cough, and well…”

Dr. Parker nods. “Gotta cover all your bases. Give me one sec.”

You nod, a sense of relief spreading through your chest. Now that you’re outside of the bubble of domesticity that’s grown with Miguel, the rest of your life is fighting its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Here you are,” Dr. Parker says, handing over a slip of white paper. “Had to check about your dimension’s formatting, but this should do the job.”

You could go straight home after leaving Dr. Parker’s office, but you’ve hardly left the place since visiting your aunt’s grave and the open light filled air of HQ calls you to stretch your legs. Various Peter Parkers look pleased to see you, waving when your paths cross and greeting you enthusiastically. Even Pter Ptarker, Spider-Rex of Earth-66, greets you with what you interpret to be a friendly rumble.

It’s amazing what a change of environment and a stretch of your legs can do. It feels as though with every stride your energy returns.

A call of your name, the letters lifting in a polite question, pulls your attention to one of the bridge-paths parallel to yours. When you turn your head, you see Miguel-209.

You lift a hand, a sort of half-wave in greeting. “Hey!”

He swings over, landing with hardly a sound at your side, and a hand hovering open-palmed near your shoulder before lowering it. “I hear you’ve been gone for a while.”

Your lips twitch, not quite a smile and not quite a grimace. “Yeah. Injury, but I’m almost back to normal.”

His brow furrows. Again, it strikes you how uncanny it is how similar and different he is from your Miguel. “Well, I’m glad you’re alright.”

You smile now, a true one, touched by his evident worry. “Thank you.”

You both pause, glance over your shoulders when one of countless Peter Parkers says excuse me to get past you.

“We should–”

“Do you–”

You both laugh, only a little awkwardly, and Miguel-209 joins you on your walk as you resume. The conversation is sparse, the silence predominantly comfortable.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

He blinks, turns his head to look at you. The two of you have come to a stop in one of the sunny lobby balconies, sunshine spilling over your skin and your clothes, his suit.

“Sure,” he says.

“You knew a different version of me, right?”

Miguel-209 pauses, eyes searching your face. When he looks away, it's with a surrendering sigh before he finally says: “I did.”

You turn to look at him, leaning on the railing. “This must be strange for you, then.”

He chuckles, a wry humorless sound. “You have no idea. We were…” He trails off.

“Close?” you prompt.

He nods, swallowed. “Married.”

That’s not what you expected.

The surprise must show on your face, because when he turns to look at you, leaning on the railing beside you, his sort-of-sad sort-of-grimace slides off, replaced by something far worse: every angle of his face is an apology.

“Sorry, I–”

“No, no–” you swallow, your mouth somehow dry and too full of spit all at once. “I had– I didn’t realize. That it was...”

Your face must be broadcasting something, because he lifts a hand to comfort you.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

He nods, voice soft and quiet. “It was a few years ago. I’m past the worst of it now.”

Your stomach twists, lurches. You suspected, but— “I died?”

His face twists. Pain, apology, grief all rolled into one.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, again, lifting your hand to rest on his. It had been hovering near your arm, and with your touch it finally lands on your shoulder.

He releases a breath, tension leaving his shoulders that you hadn't realized was there, even as his face begins to crease with—

“I couldn't save you,” he says, and you see the tears welling in his eyes. “It was— I should have—”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” you say, stepping forward and squeezing his hand. “Don’t.”

His lips thin, pressed together in a true grimace now and still hiding his teeth. “It was my fault.”

“All of us lost someone like that,” you say, jerking the grip you have on his hand in emphasis. “All of the Uncle Bens. My aunt. Miguel— the other you’s Gabriella. Gwen even lost her Peter.” You shake your head. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Miguel. The you now might have been able to stop it, but not the you then.”

He stares down at you, eyes shining and brows angled together like a cottage rooftop.

“That’s another thing that’s the same,” he says, trying to joke through the wobble in his voice. “You always made such good points.”

You smile, and he chuckles, squeezing your shoulder in thanks before letting go.

“You’re lucky,” Karen jokes, as the two of you climb the stairs to Nelson & Murdock. “You get to see the place after it’s actually set up.”

You give a weak, slightly winded chuckle in response.

“You okay?” she asks, taking in your winded posture and drained features.

You wave her off. “Give me just a second.”

She does, mercifully, and then you make the final stretch to the office.

Karen opens the door, glancing around to make sure no clients are present to be interrupted when she announces: “We brought food!”

You feel a little shaky on your feet, and your hand goes to your ribs—injury still intact, of course, after the all clear from Doctor Parker, but the soreness remains.

“Oh, thank god,” Foggy says, emerging from the office to your right. “And a guest!” his smile lights up when he sees you beside Karen. “Damn, the flu really did a number on you. Need a seat?”

Matt emerges from the office to your left, his nostrils flaring at the scent of food.

You nod, adding a “Thank you” when Foggy gestures to the conference room, opening the door for the four of you to file in for lunch.

It’s the first time you’ve seen your three new friends in two weeks, excuses made under the pretense of having caught the flu and not wanting to spread it further. 

Matt and Foggy sit on the far side of the table. Karen and you sit opposite them; Karen across from Foggy, and you across from Matt.

“Oh, we need dishes–” Karen begins to stand again.

“I’ll help you with that,” Foggy says, rising from his seat. Matt begins to stand too, but Foggy’s hand on his shoulder pushes him back into his seat. “You stay here. Karen and I got it. Besides,” and here he claps Matt’s shoulder, Matt giving a short, smiling breath in response, opening his mouth to reply when Foggy continues. “Someone’s gotta keep company with our new guest. How would it look if we made the blind guy fetch stacks of plates?”

Matt chuckles, waving Foggy off in surrender. “Alright, alright.”

Foggy shoots you a smile, exiting with Karen.

Matt offers a sheepish smile, and you shift in your seat.

“So,” you say. “Nice place you got here.”

Matt smiles, head bowed. “So I’ve been told,” he says, the corner of his smile twitching in what you hope is amusement.

“How long have you been here?”

“In the space?”

“Mhm.”

“A few years,” he shrugs a shoulder, leaning his head to the side. “It was rough when we first got here. Our sign on the door was cardboard and marker.”

You laugh. “Well, clearly you’ve grown since then.”

He smiles. “Yes. I like to think so.”

The conversation falls into a lull, and you watch Matt for a moment. You know he can’t see you, but the way his face is turned directly to yours—really, he’s just pointing it forward and it’s nobody’s fault that you happen to be in the seat across from him—almost feels like he knows you’re observing him and is happy to allow it.

Your skin prickles, the sensation akin to being watched yourself.

It’s then that Foggy and Karen return, setting plates and silverware down on the table. The two takeout bags are opened and the boxes of food are distributed amongst the four of you.

It’s nice, you think, to be able to eat and spend your day like this. Doing normal things with normal people. It helps ease the weight of your worries, helps distract from the itch of your leg and the ache in your side.

“Thank you for coming to visit us,” Matt says, leaning slightly towards you across the table while Karen and Foggy divide the last of the pakoras. “At least, somewhere that isn’t a bar.”

You grin. “And during the daytime, no less.”

He laughs, his usual breathy chuckle and wide devilish smile. “Right.” His face turns serious, and his lips twitch before he speaks again. “How are you? I just… I know the flu is terrible.”

You glance to the side, at Karen and Foggy bantering.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “It’s just been a long week. Getting over the flu is a pain.”

Matt nods, the gesture a second delayed. “Mm. It is.”

Before you can get back to Spidering, you need to build back your energy. You’ve made good use of the training rooms and gyms that you’re able to at HQ over the last several days. Already you feel your body bouncing back, practically back to normal besides the occasional numb tingling in your scars. You still haven’t gotten approval from Doctor Parker to start swinging on webs due to the unique strain it puts on your body, but you’ve been cleared for nearly everything else.

So nearly everything else is what you do.

You crawl on walls around the gyms and on your ceiling at home. You use webs to pull things back towards you, you run on treadmills, you lift moderate weights (moderate for a Spider-Person, but nothing that would strain your side), you dodge projectile simulations, you do stretches.

Even better than all of this though, is your ability to lay on your other side in bed, to shift and roll over and let Miguel’s arms envelop you as he cuddles up to your back. You don’t say anything about the way he seems to deliberately breathe you in when you lay like this, clean hair and skin after showering away your long days of physical exercise.

And then the next monthly meeting rolls around. Miguel makes a point of letting you know it’s happening, both via Lyla and himself. You appreciate it, after last time, and wait with him in his lab on the day of.

“Look at you in your people clothes,” Jess says, smiling at you when she arrives. “No suit?”

“Feels weird to wear it when I still haven’t been given the go ahead,” you shrug, smiling. You’re perched on the same surface where you had shared lunch with Miguel and Peter and surprised them both with the Spidey Special, legs hanging over the edge and swinging, kicking lightly against the metal surface with dull thumps.

“Stop kicking my stuff,” Miguel says, voice light, a half hearted glare thrown at you over his shoulder up on his platform.

“Sorry boss,” you say, folding your legs up under you to keep them from going again.

He shakes his head, turning away, but you can see the smile threatening to spread before he does.

When you look at Jess again, she has an inquisitive eyebrow raised. Your cheeks warm, and then you’re saved by the arrival of more Spider-People filing in and circling up in the open space of the lab. You take your place in the circle at Miguel’s side, and he wastes no time starting the meeting once all are present and accounted for—including Miguel-209.

Peter, holding May, interrupts, setting a new record for how quickly a meeting gets derailed by a Peter Parker.

“How do we differentiate between the two of you?”

Your Miguel deadpan stares him down. “What?”

Peter gestures between the two of them, at right angles to each other in the circle. “There’s two of you here.”

“And?”

“Won’t it get confusing?” another interrupts. “Like, Boss Miguel and Other Miguel—”

“Please don’t call me 'Other Miguel.'”

“Well—”

“There’s hundreds of you, but somehow we manage,” your Miguel interrupts. “So I’m sure we’ll find a way to manage with just two Miguels. Now can we please focus?”

Acquiescing murmurs flutter around, and you can’t help but grin, meeting Miguel-209’s eyes. He raises an eyebrow, failing to hide his amusement. You shrug, and Miguel-209 smiles his close-lipped, fang-concealing smile, turning to look at the hologram in the center of the circle.

You feel eyes on your face, and turn to look at your Miguel.

He looks away as if caught—pretending to not have been looking in the first place—and his mouth twitches, the corners turned down so very slightly.

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

[bravrdm]

poly!bats boys x plus sized black reader headcanons?

Omg I completely ignored the poly part my bad I’ll do another one but for now here’s this

THIS HAS NOT BEEN EDITED AT ALL SO IF ITS BAD DONT JUDGE

Azriel

He worships you body in the bedroom

He knows how it feels to be insecure (via his hands)

So he always make sure to remind you your beautiful.

Fucks you when ever you get a new hairstyle

If you ever worked for the night Court you would be a perfect spy bc ur change ur wigs all the time.

When you wore your Afro out one day in the city the kids came rushing out to greet you and they put a whole bunch of flowers in ur hair

He he didn’t think it was possible to fall even more in love with you in that moment but he did. He loved seeing you with kids

Punched a dude in the face for making fun of ur weight.

He thinks ur hair is really cute

Would try to use ur hair and ur ass as a pillow.

Always touching ur belly and kissing ur arms/shoulders.

{dam bitch why I’m blushing}

Goes feral when u wear skin tight dresses and that one color that looks good on ur skin tone.

Kisses you stomach when he’s going down on u.

When u fall asleep he’ll put on ur bonnet for u and kiss ur forehead.

You’ll be at the dinner table with everyone and he’ll be kissing ur wrist and kissing up ur arm like chill bruh it’s not that serious

He’ll learn how to do ur twist outs and will make sure u never run out of hair grease.

Don’t make jokes about ur weight or skin color in front of him. He will fuck you in front of the mirror/ window just to show u and everyone else just how pretty you look when your cumming on his dick.

Ur sitting in his lap ALL of the time

Seriously

When even u joined the high lord meetings with az rhysand wouldn’t even give u a chair bc he knew Azriel would just pull u into his lap and you would both just sit there

U thought he was lying when he said he would fuck you in front of everyone if you kept making jokes about yourself?

The next meeting he had he had you facing everyone while fucking the shit out of you while his shadows covered the both of you so no one would see.

Sadly the shadows couldn’t hide your moans so u had to keep quiet.

Rhysand chewed him out for it but he also told az he would of done the same thing (they both nasty like that ew)

Cassian

He’s a big man so of course he likes everything big.

No offense to nesta but I don’t think it’s really realistic for cassian to be with a skinny girl 😔

Big beefy men usually go for big girls idk why ask your baldheaded mother.

He would only wanna see u in skintight dresses. (Or naked but that’s another story.)

He would HAVE TO learn how to do ur hair

Territorial asf

One time u had a male hair braider and he almost went crazy

You smacked him and kicked him out

After that he made sure to learn how natural hair works bc there was no way he was gonna let anyone else touch you.

It was kinda romantic teaching him and watching him learn about your hair.

He’ll do ur cornrows and then fuck u.

I feel like he would be more intimate when it comes to doing ur hair.

Like he would light candles and wash ur body in the bathtub and then wash ur hair.

After he’s done he would lay u on the bed and oil and lotion ur whole body down. And put u in one of his shirts

He would have u sit in his chair at his desk, section your hair and twist it up

You’d be so relaxed at that point and turned on.

9/10 im slow fucking him after that ngl.

Nice sleepy cuddle-fucking? Yes sir yes sir.

Rhysand

He tried to learn how to do ur hair but he was so busy and was always tired after his long work days.

But there was no way in hell he was having his high lady looking like shit

So he made a plan and got together the best stylists and braiders in the game for his wife ❤️🤞🏾

He would definitely have u living that pampered wife lifestyle

Im not really into the soft life shit but he would definitely have u living the soft life

Always buying expensive hair jewelry and headbands.

He got u a wet brush with a fat diamond in the center.

All ur hair products would match bc he likes organization.

Would probably have a whole separate room dedicated to ur hair and jewelry.

I’m kinda mad at rhysand rn so no more for him.

[butterflyintochains]

We Three Together

This is kinda based on a convo I had with @mikathemad earlier, kinda angsty, but here she is.

The rush of the number retirement ceremony has begun to abate a slight since last night. But, there's something wrong, Sid can feel it in the room, something is not entirely right in his team. And, no, it's not the abysmal powerplay... yet. He looks around the room at his team, eyes falling on Kris and Erik. The duo are deep in conversation, heads close together, looking at something on Erik's phone. Sid can feel that Kris is holding something in, eighteen years have honed them on each other's cues. So, he gives Geno a nod, and he closes the doors to the dressing room after Ned and Tristan leave. ''Sid, what's going on?'' Erik asks.

Sid says, rubbing his hands together. ''I think one of us has something on his chest. And, I think we all know who it is.'' Geno sits at his stall, and says. ''Legend, are you okay?'' Kris, a kind of confused look on his face, smiles and says. ''Yeah? Of course I am, why wouldn't I be? Why?''

Erik places a hand on his partner's knee, feeling like the shittiest partner in the world right now. ''Kris... hjartat.'' This seems to unravel him a slight. ''I dunno, maybe this weekend has just... brought a lot into my mind, that's all.''

Sid gently asks, knowing not to press his best friend too hard lest he pounce. ''Like what?'' Kris is silent, staring at the whiteboards, his glassy brown eyes would be hidden a mere month ago by his hair. ''Kris, we're your family, talk to us.'' Geno says, trying to sound as calming as possible. And, that's the problem, they've never had the thoughts Kris has had on quiet bus trips, they've not almost died because of a fucked up heart, he loves them both so, so much. But, this is just too big, too messy, too... not Kris. ''Kris, look at us, please.'' Erik says softly, and Kris slowly turns to face his partner and brothers. ''Promise me that no one but us four will know this?'' Sid, on behalf of all three of them, says. ''We promise. Now, talk to us.''

Kris steels himself for this conversation, one nearly a decade in the making now. But, he's safe with them, right? ''Seeing Jagr's number raised, the number I wore my whole childhood, just got to me. I just... what if that's as close as I get, y'know?''

Sid knits his brows together, a knot of pain for his best friend forming in his stomach. ''Kris, what d'you mean?'' Kris swallows heavily, trying not to put pressure on his heart. ''Sid, come on, I'm not exactly anything special, am I? Michel Briere died, Mario is Mario, Jaro is Jaro. You and Geno are living legends, so is Flower.''

Geno says, still keeping his voice level so as not to aggravate the situation. ''Kris, you've won three cups, all of them for us.'' Kris scoffs, and says. ''And, how much does '17 count really? I only stepped on the ice once the entire time.''

Erik says, not even he's heard any of this, not even at home during late night chats in bed. ''Your name is on that cup all three times, that ring sits on our mantle with the other two. Sully told me you all but coached the team that spring, with the surgery and all.'' Geno adds, remembering 2016. ''And, remember '16? You scored that goal, Kris, neither Sid or me have ever scored a cup goal, you have.'' Kris sniffs, the dam is breaking, and he doesn't like it. ''I've not won anything for Canada, either.''

Now, it's Sid's turn to scoff. ''That's because the assholes never had the guts to give you a chance, Kris. I begged Babcock to add you to the Prague and World Cup teams, he refused. No idea why, he just did.''

Kris fiddles with his baseball cap, needing something to occupy himself with. ''I've got one individual award to my name, one I didn't particularly seek out, no one wants a Masterton. I'm so proud of it, but, not even being considered for a Norris, just... hurts.'' Erik says, because he does know, he's always known, ever since he won his second, how hurt Kris has always been at being passed over. ''Kris, you don't need a Norris, you've already cemented yourself as this team's greatest ever defenceman. I mean, I looked at all the records for our position on the walls when I got here, you are on all of them.'' Erik says, because only a fellow defenceman can ever understand this feeling. ''As much as I love you, I never wanna play against you again. But, so many forwards in this league hate having to face you, and so many dmen want to be you.''

Sid adds, hating himself for failing his role as both best friend and captain where Kris is concerned. ''Then: you made sure we were all vaccinated against Covid, you are the driving force behind our charity work, you helped get the Bubble Playoffs and return to play going. Played 1000 games after all you've been through.'' Sid catches his breath. ''Sure, I have the C, but, when things get really bad, we all look to you.''

Geno simply asks his best friend. ''Kris, what do your gloves say?'' Kris furrows his brows, confused. ''Legend, G, why?'' Geno rubs his hands together. ''That's there for a reason. That's how we see you, you're our Legend. Our survivor.''

Erik adds, holding Kris' hands in his. ''Our conscience.''

Mario swoops in, the quiet father of the team. ''Kris, son, 58 will be up there with 87 and 71, and hopefully 29 too. No one could ever carry it with the dignity, humility, and style you have. As soon as you three hang them up, we're having the ceremony.''

Sid asks, incredulously. ''Wait, day of our retirement? All at once?'' Mario nods, and says. ''Within the week, actually, I've had the ceremony planned since 2017. But, this is my promise to all three of you. Now, Sully is waiting, should I tell him you're on your way, or not?''

Everyone looks to Kris, who picks his helmet up, dries his eyes, and says, ''Let's fucking do this.'' Sid and Geno embrace their best friend, Erik kisses his partner, and the four musketeers take to the ice. ''Kris, why didn't you ever bring this up before?'' Sid asks on the way to the rink. Kris shrugs. ''It just didn't ever feel like a good time. I promise, though, no more secrets.''

Sid says. ''Good, because it's we three together, okay?'' Kris nods, his chest feeling a million pounds lighter. He just hopes Flower can be added to that ceremony, whenever it happens.

[eunchancorner]

Useful Distractions (Blended AU)

They're ouppies, your honor

-

“Burttttttt!”

He heard the whine before Sven entered his office. Judging by the lack of paperwork in his hands, he had a personal issue that he wanted Burt to either solve or advise him on. And that tone normally meant the former.

“Yes?” he responded, his tail wagging involuntarily as the blonde approached.

“How the hell do you stand these damn ears?! I swear I scratched mine ONCE and now they’re so itchy constantly, but I can’t use any ointment on them because it’s going to get all gross in the fur and it’s just…” he let out a frustrated yell.

“Well, mine aren’t as fluffy so they’re not really itchy? Pitbulls have thin coats, y’know.”

“Telling me how much better you have it isn’t helping!”

The taller sighed a bit, before extending his arms out to Sven. In turn, the blonde flopped into the hug with a dramatic sigh.

“It itches so much…” he whined again, and that spurred Burt to think about how to actually help. Actually scratching would likely make it worse, even if it gave him temporary relief, and the last thing he wanted to do was make it worse. 

But maybe if I could make him forget about it, it’d bother him less…

“Hey, I have an idea. Come with me,” he offered, standing with the blonde and taking his hand, beginning the walk to his room.

“Where are we going?” Sven asked.

“My room. I have an idea to help you forget the itching.”

“How is forgetting going to help?”

“Well, you said it started after you scratched them, right? So, maybe the issue is that now your body’s aware that they’re itchy. So maybe, if we force it to focus on something else, it’ll help the itching stop.”

“That’s… that’s actually really smart. You’re sure you belong as head of communications and not, like, on the medteam?”

He shrugged.

“I mean, I got it from listening to you, so I think I’m in the right job,” he decided as he reached the room.

“So, how exactly are you planning on distracting me from my ears?” the blonde asked, watching Burt briefly make his messy bed before sitting on it. 

“Well, it’s complicated. I’m going to need your consent, but the good news is, the only thing you need to take off is your hat,” he assured the blonde, moving back onto his bed.

“Hm… Well, I suppose I’ve trusted you with my life before, so I can trust you with my consent now… But you’ll stop… whatever it is if I need you to, right?”

“Of course.”

He motioned for the shorter to lay down in front of him, watching as he did so curiously, handing Burt his hat, which he set off to the side. 

“Hm… I’m actually also going to need access to your stomach,” the taller realized, making Sven raise an eyebrow at the idea

“Wait what? Why?”

“It has to do with the idea. Y’know how we’re dog hybrids now, right?”

“Right…?”

“And dogs tend to like belly rubs, right?”

“Right?”

“Well, what’s a good correlation for people?”

“Hm… I suppose belly ti-” Sven’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait a goddamn minute.”

“It would help you forget about your ears being itchy. Besides, you’ve never had that much of a problem with it before, so I figured that it shouldn’t be too out there to try.”

Sven heaved a sigh, and Burt could tell he was trying to pretend he wasn’t already blushing.

“Fine, fine…” he mumbled, unbuttoning his vest and shirt. “But I’m only doing this so I don’t have to deal with these fucking ears…”

I’m so sure, Burt kept his thoughts to himself as the blonde flopped back, crossing his arms over his chest. He chose to keep quiet about how his tail was already wagging.

Gently, he began to tickle the blonde’s belly, watching as his expression of carefully calculated annoyance started to be overtaken by a wobbly smile, and how he squeezed his eyes shut on instinct. Burt let himself smile at how his shoulders shook with suppressed giggles, tempted to say something about it but keeping quiet.

Instead, he quickly pressed into the shorter’s tummy, earning a squeal that broke the dam, rewarding him with bright, giddy laughter, and watching as Sven covered his face with his arms, squirming under the tickly touches. But Burt noticed something; he wasn’t actually trying to get away, like instinct would have him do normally. Hell, he wasn’t even trying to ramble on about some half-baked speech about how Burt was ‘evil’, or even a simple string of no’s. It seemed as if he was rolling into the tickles, opening himself up more to them. Burt couldn’t even tease him about saying ‘no no no’ but how his body language was saying ‘yes’, because he wasn’t even saying no!

He loves this, Burt realized, and he can’t even deny it anymore.

“Good god, when did you get so fucking cute?…” he mumbled to himself, though he could tell Sven heard him.

“Ihi am nohohot!!” the blonde argued, “Ihit juhust…!”

Oh my god.

“You can’t even say it, can you?”

Sven shook his head, and Burt swore his own face was on fire.

“Well, congratulations, Sven, I never thought I would ever have a cuteness-induced heart attack, but you’re seriously making me rethink that,” he admitted.

“Nohohoho! Ihihi’m nohohohot! Plehehehease!”

“Please what? Do you want me to stop?”

Even if Sven didn’t respond, he’d find it ridiculously cute. But he shook his head. He actually confirmed that he didn’t want Burt to stop.

Oh my fucking god.

He couldn’t describe the feeling in his chest. It almost felt like some kind of choking ache, but in some weirdly positive way, that made him want to tickle the absolute fuck out of the blonde. His brain was full of energy and the best outlet he could find was his own hands on Sven’s belly.

Without warning, he began kneading the soft skin, earning a squeal as Sven’s arms snapped down, hugging his own torso tightly against the sensations and making a feeble attempt to curl up, though now Burt could just more easily see how quickly his tail was wagging.

“Buhuhurt!! Ohoho gohohod!! Plehehehease!! I cahahahan’t!”

“Can’t what? Do you need me to stop?” he asked, finding himself hoping for another no. Even though Sven didn’t respond this time, how much more he was blushing was enough of an answer. 

Burt felt quiet, growl-like rumbles building in his chest, feeling how fast his own tail was whipping around. He’d heard of this, how some dogs ‘rumbled’ when they were happy, or most of them when they were feeling playful, but he wasn’t sure which one this was. He was happy to be helping, that was sure, but the more he tickled Sven, the more intensely he wanted to tickle the blonde. He couldn’t help how cute he found him; it wasn’t his fault Sven was being so obvious about how much he liked it, too!

“Stohop grohohowlihing!!” Sven complained through his laughter.

“Stop being so fucking adorable, then,” Burt retorted.

“Ihi’m nohohot!”

“You see, I’d believe that, but every time you try to say you’re not, I just want to tickle you even more, and it’s getting to the point where I really just want to make you squeal. But I’m trying to have self-control, because I’m doing this to help you, so if you keep complaining, I will throw self-control out the window and do what I want, understand?”

In response, Sven let out a growl of his own, although it was undermined by his own laughter.

“Juhuhust doho ihihit thehehehen!”

Burt physically paused, processing what he’d just heard.

“What?”

Sven took Burt freezing as an opportunity to catch his breath, trying to regain composure.

“Juhust… juhust doho the thihing you wahant to dohoho… I dohon’t cahahare…”

“You… You’re asking me to absolutely destroy you? Just… like that?”

“Dohon’t make me sahay it agahain…”

“Right, right, I just… You’re sure you want to let me do this?”

“Ihit’s just… y’know… can’t be that bad, right…?”

“Right, right yeah,” Burt took a few deep breaths to try to help his pounding heart, feeling like he might genuinely have a cuteness-induced heart attack. “Ready?”

Sven crossed his arms tightly over his chest with a short nod, clutching onto his own sleeves. Neither of them pointed out their wagging tails as Burt took a deep breath, before blowing a huge raspberry right on Sven’s belly, pulling bright cackles from him as he almost immediately curled up. 

“NAHAHAHA BUHUHUHURT!!” he squealed, kicking his legs as the other Toppat rumbled happily against his belly as he blew another raspberry. “PLEHEHEHEASE!”

“What happened to ‘can’t be that bad’?” Burt asked, shortly before blowing another raspberry, resulting in another squeal.

“IHI- IHIHI DIHIHIDN’T REHEHEALIHIZE!” he managed, right before getting raspberried again. “PLEHEHEASE! NOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!”

Burt sat up, pausing as he watched Sven regain his breath.

“You mean it this time?”

“Y-yehehes! Nohoho mohohohore…” the blonde repeated, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Burt sat back, watching Sven compose himself, his tail still wagging at the shorter’s calming giggles. Eventually, the blonde sat up, rebuttoning his shirt and vest, finally getting himself under control.

“Gohod… I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard… what was that about?” he asked, still unable to wipe the smile from his face or stop his tail wagging.

“I don’t know, I don’t normally get cuteness aggression at all, let alone that bad. Think it might be the pitbull thing? Pitbulls are a pretty playful, friendly breed, after all,” Burt mused, noting how Sven still blushed at the very notion that he might be cute.

“Maybe? It would make sense, I suppose, that the DNA is warping our own brains as well as our bodies.”

“Hm. Hey, how’s your ears by the way?”

“They’re… They’re not itchy anymore!” the blonde realized with a smile, “I guess it really did work!”

“See? Just needed a distraction.”

“I guess. I owe you one for this, Burt.”

“Honestly, trusting me with that was enough. Maybe if your ears bug you again, we can make this the go-to fix? I mean… I had fun, you obviously loved it, so, if you want...”

“I… well…” the blonde tried not to show how much the idea flustered him, but he sighed with a smile, “Yeah. I think that’d be fun. Just under one condition.”

“Don’t tell anyone?”

“Exactly.”

[wosotales]

Behind The Kit: Arsenal's Chosen Family - Safe Haven

The pressure of being at a new club is overwhelming to Frida and it's taking everything inside of her to not break.

Frida had been at Arsenal for a few weeks now, but the weight of everything still hung over her like a dark cloud. The pressure of playing at a high level paired with the cold distance from her mama, Emma, and the unfamiliarity of her new teammates - it all gnawed at her.

Emma had been everything to her back home, her captain and her mama, and knowing that her mama wasn’t nearby to hold her when things got that bit tough made the unease settle deep into her bones.

Every match seemed like a battle, not just against their opponents but against the swirling thoughts that constantly edged her towards littlespace.

The temptation to drop, to think into that comforting headspace, was growing harder to resist and especially more so after a tough loss like today’s. Frida kept on fighting it, she couldn’t let herself drop, not here at least.

What if no one would take care of her? What if they thought she was weak?

Little did Frida know that her mama had kept the connection open between Lia and Kim to check in on her, they’d promised to look out for her and take care of her if needed, but what if they didn’t really mean it and were only saying it for her mama’s sake?

The team’s changing room after the match was tense and quiet, the sting of defeat hanging in the air. Frida sat at her locker, staring blankly at the floor - she hadn’t even played badly, but that didn’t seem to matter to her. The weight of the loss and expectation was crushing, and it was only when she felt her hands trembling that she realised just how close to the edge she was.

Frida’s breath hitched, and she quickly blinked back any tears, she couldn’t cry - not here she refused to cry in front of them. Nobody could see her like this.

Kim, who was sitting a few seats away from her, instantly noticed her discomfort. The Scotswoman had been keeping a closer eye on her since she joined, making a promise to Emma that wasn’t easily forgotten. Looking across the room and exchanging a look with Lia, she also seemed to sense the unease radiating off Frida.

“Frida,” Kim spoke up in a calm tone of voice, an underlying softness that made Frida’s stomach flip as the younger girl glanced up quickly, her breath catching in her throat, “Are you okay?”

Frida swallowed hard, trying to mask her emotion but she couldn’t stop her bottom lip from quivering, “I’m fine,” she managed to mumble, her voice thin and shaky.

Kim wasn’t so convinced by her answer, making a move to be closer to Frida and crouching down so she was eye-level with her, “Sweetheart, it’s alright if you’re not,. Remember you don’t have to keep it all inside of you.”

That’s all it took for the girl to break.

The dam broke, and the tears that Frida had been fighting spilled down her cheeks. Her whole body began to tremble as sobs wracked through her, and she buried her face in her hands, feeling ashamed of how hard she was falling apart while she was supposed to be strong.

She didn’t want to be a burden to anyone.

“I… I want my mama,” Frida sobbed, her voice barely audible.

Without any hesitation, Kim moved to sit beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “Hey, shh. It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay,” she murmured, “We’ve got you, Frida.”

Lia, who was watching from her spot, quietly came over too and sat on the other side of Frida, “I know it’s hard to be here without her, but we’re here, alright?” she reminded her softly, “You’re not alone, we promised Emma we would look after you and we’re sticking to that promise.”

“I miss her,” Frida choked out.

“I know you do, sweetheart,” Kim whispered, pulling Frida into a tight embrace, “IIt’s hard to be away from ones that we love, isn’t it?”

Fria could barely mutter a single word as she nodded, “Mhm.”

“You’re not alone here, alright?” Lia chipped in from where she sat on the opposite side of Frida, “You have all of us, and we’re going to take good care of you until you can see your Mama again.”

Frida nodded weakly, her sobs quieting a little at the mention of her mama. She definitely was missing her so much that it hurt, but there was some reassurance that Lia and Kim were going to be there, which made it that bit easier.

“You’re allowed to feel like you do, Frida,” Kim reassured her softly, “It’s okay to let go, darling. Let yourself drop if need be, we’re here, remember?”

Frida hesitated for a moment, her body still shaking as she wiped away her tears. She was scared to let herself drop and be that vulnerable, scared that no one would understand but here they both were - offering her the car and protection that she so desperately needed.

“I… I don’t know how,” Frida admitted, her voice cracking.

Kim pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, a kind gesture that Frida didn’t even realise that she craved until that moment, “It’s going to be okay.” she repeated, quietly.

There was still a part of Frida that felt overwhelmed, but she was beginning to trust them - she could trust that they were going to take care of her.

Frida knew that Kim and Lia both had a calming presence, and slowly, Frida allowed herself to settle into the safety that they both provided.

“Alright, how about this,” Lia rubbed soothing circles on Frida’s back, “How about we call your Mama and you can speak to her? Would that help?” she questioned, thoughtfully.

“Mama,” Frida whimpered at the mention of the familiar women, sniffling slightly and nodded in agreement - a FaceTime with her mama sounded exactly like what she needed, and even if Emma was far away, at least being able to hear her voice and seeing her face would be enough to ground her.

It took less than a few minutes for Lia to pull her phone out and make the call before Emma’s face appeared on the screen, her warm smile immediately softening Frida’s heart.

“Oh there’s my baby girl,” Emma cooed, her voice soothing like a lullaby, “You’re doing so well, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.”

“Mama,” Frida’s voice was small, but there was a sense of relief in it now, just hearing Emma speak was enough to make her feel safer.

“I know it’s hard sweetheart,” Emma continued, her tone gentle but firm just like always when Frida was teetering on the edge of littlespace, “But you’re doing a great job but you don’t need to hold back anymore, okay? I want you to remember that no matter what happens, I’m always with you, no matter how far apart we are.”

Kim and Lia gave Frida the space to talk to her mama, staying close by but letting her have that moment as Frida curled up tighter, feeling the warmth of Kim’s arm around her and the comfort of Emma’s voice washing over her.

It wasn’t the same as having her mama physically there, but for now, it was enough.

“I love you, mama.” Frida whispered, the last of her tears drying as the weight of emotions started to lift.

“And I love you too, baby girl,” Emme replied, “I know it’s tough but you’re in really good hands with Kim and Lia.” she reassured her with a genuine smile on her face.

Frida nodded, her heart feeling a little lighter. She couldn’t help but miss Emma fiercely, but maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face it all on her own.

As the call ended, Frida looked up at Kim and Lia with a tiny, tired smile on her face, “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice fragile but full of gratitude.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Kim squeezed her shoulder gently, “We’ve got you.”

Lia smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair away from Frida’s face, “There’s no need to be afraid to drop anymore,” she paused for a moment, “We’re here for you, whenever you might need us.”

And for the first time since Frida joined Arsenal, she truly did believe that.

[sigappurojakal]

Rice and Beans’ Argument Rice: I am so beautiful and more expensive now, take a look at me…I don cost too much ooBeans: Abeg keep quiet there let me hear word, you are too proud and that is the problem I have with you Rice, can’t you for once bring down your shoulders? Eh?Rice: (Laughs) why should I keep quiet? Did I lie , see this one oBeans: My friend getat, I know we’re friends o and we are always together but that doesn’t mean if I see you misbehaving I will not correct you. Rice: why are you correcting me? What’s my offence? Is it my fault that I am more attractive and I am used in every occasion than you? Common my dear friend, accept it…I am better than any food, including you 😃Beans: Now you want to make me angry, I’m I not expensive too? Do you know how much a bag of me is worth now in the local market? Take your time o, I no wan change am for you Rice 😠Rice: why are you getting all worked up na, Beans you gat to be calming down oBeans: In-fact, this conversation is over…I don’t like insult, because this conversation is now entering insultRice: You’re just jealous of me, admit it 😂 poor Beans…..you wish to go continental like me, you can’t o my friend Beans: I don’t blame you , I blame humans that put so much importance to you…stup!d food 😡 I am even more healthier than you.Rice: 😛 Do I look like I give a dam. The funny part is that humans; most especially Nigerians eat me on most special celebrations like Christmas and Sallah , no one remembers you sef…I can’t imagine how you feel Beans😅 most people don’t even like you.Beans: I know that and I have accepted my fate, humans are my main problem not you, your own matter is small, you no reach sef….That is why I have been punishing most of them after eating me…yes I punish them,Let me leave this place now before I react.  (Waka🖐)The EndMoral Lesson: This is why Beans gives you stomach problem, Beans is angry with you.NB: Have you followed me yet? This rice without meat is for those who read my jokes without following or reacting 😀😀

[chvnnie]

how do you think would skz react to their s/o having a rly high sex drive? cause these men get me acting up constantly 😵‍💫

DAMN BESTIE YOU GOT MY MIND SPINNING???

l o l i want to apologize for the length. i tried to keep it short i stg.

SMUT BELOW THE CUT - MINORS DNI

in his opinion, the best present chan has ever bought you is a little pink vibrator. small, subtle, quiet. a perfect way to get your needs under control when chan is unavailable to help. like now — you’ve been up for the past thirty minutes, legs pressed together and trying to even out your breathing after an unnecessarily vivid wet dream. you really thought you could calm yourself down, but as the clock ticked on, it became increasingly obvious that you bit off more than you could chew. digging through your bedside table, you find the bullet toy, clicking through the settings to find the pulse pattern that makes you grip the sheets. teasing the outside of the panties, you move it up and down your folds, the barrier adding the perfect amount of friction. you cup your mouth, moaning as soft as you can into your palm as you bring yourself to a quick orgasm, dam breaking as soon as it was built. that should’ve helped, but all it did was add to the stickiness. chan’s had a long week — late nights at work and staying up in the home studio even after working 12 hours a day. he had just fallen asleep when your dream woke you, slumber taking over the moment his head hit the pillow. you would really hate to wake him up just for something like this, but you’re reaching out to grab his shoulder before you even know what you’re doing. just a little shake and he’s stirring, arm stretching under the blanket to find you. his hand lands on your mid thigh, squeezing the plush flesh as he groans. “what’s the matter, honey?” his tired eyes blink open to find you staring nervously, panting from the intense feelings you’re having. closing his eyes again, chan chuckles lowly before wrapping his arm around your waist, tugging you on top of him. your wet panties press against his semi, making you whimper softly. he holds the back of your head as he kisses you, letting you roll your hips against his. it makes him chuckle — you’re always so needy for him, so ready to get on your knees and beg for him, that it would just be too cruel to torture you. it’s absolutely adorable, and you’ve got him completely wrapped around his finger. he grips your hips, stopping your movements even though you protest. chan shushes you before slowly dragging your body up a bit until your core is on his stomach. “couldn’t take care of it yourself? that’s okay, baby. come sit on daddy’s face, let me make you feel better.”

it’s always funny to minho when you can’t control yourself, especially when his friends are around. he watches you through the practice room mirror, trying to focus on anything but your boyfriend and his tight sweat pants. you’re looking down at your phone, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker up when you think he’s not looking at you. he has to be distracted, right? he’s running the choreo practice, he doesn’t have time to humor you and you overbearing needs. or at least that’s what you tell yourself, content with sitting with your legs pressed together until he decides to pay attention to you. but it’s far too easy to tease you in this state, and who would he be if he didn’t fuck with you a bit? he calls for five, walking over to the couch you’re sat on. squatting in front of you, he grabs his water bottle and takes large swigs of it. there’s no way you can’t stare now, eyes fixed on his adam’s apple as you watch him chug the clear liquid. there are drops on his lips when he pulls the bottle back, making a show of sighing and wiping it off with the back of his hand. “all good, love? you look a little…flustered.” the way your nose twitches, annoyance in the fact that he’s going to pull this shit on you, is exactly the reaction he was looking for. checking make sure nobody is watching the two of you, you grab his sweaty shirt, pulling him closer to your body. he’s still squatted on the ground, in between your legs with a skirt that’s riding up a little too much. minho’s low chuckle makes your spine tingle, pushing up on his toes to brush his lips against yours. without a care of who could possibly see, his hand creeps up your thigh, slender fingers gently teasing your clothed cunt. “so filthy, soaking your panties like this with all my friends around. maybe i should fuck you right now if you can’t control yourself.”

it would be stupid of you not to be all over changbin 24/7. your already high sex drive seemed to skyrocket when you started dating; tones body silky smooth under your finger tips, dark eyes with a look that threatens to tear you apart. people said you’d calm down, get over it. once the honeymoon phase is over, you’ll calm down, you’ll see. but it’s three years later and it’s physically impossible to keep off of him. time only made it better, only made you want him more. it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to fuck multiple times a day, sometimes keeping a tally for your own amusement (you’re desperately trying to break the seven round record you have). so when noon hit, and you haven’t at least had his cock in your mouth, you felt like you were going to combust. the throbbing in your legs was almost painful, screaming for you to do something about it. it wasn’t changbin’s fault — he had a busy schedule today, you were well aware of that, but fuck it should be easier than this. the worst part about it is that he hasn’t even left the apartment. he’s sat on the couch with his headphones on, head resting on his palm as he clicks away on his laptop. god, he looked so sexy and he wasn’t even trying; pretty curls that you want to run your fingers through, black shirt hugging his muscles that you want to bite. you wanted to give him space, let him work, but before you can even think, you’re slipping into his lap with a proposal. just let you sit on his cock, that’s it. you promise not to move, promise not to be a distraction, but you need something. changbin would be so silly to turn that down, and before you knew it, his was snug inside you, rubbing your back as he continued his work. you rested your head in his neck, the pressure you felt lessening from the beautiful stretch you’re receiving. his thick cock fits inside you like it’s made for you, and it’s enough to satisfy you. for a few minutes. but the longer you sat still, the harder it became. you bite your lip, trying not to whimper as you clench so slightly. he shouldn’t notice that right? the hand that smacks your ass tells you that not only he did notice, but he’s not happy about it. “do that again and you won’t cum at all today.” changbin whispers lowly in your ear, voice deep and telling you he’s not fucking around. doesn’t he understand how hard it is for you, though? you didn’t even need any prep, so wet and ready for your hole to be used that he slid in with ease. it’s too impossible of an ask for you, an annoyance building in your chest at his stupid threat. he feels you huff a breath, smirking slightly at the bratty attitude he knew was building. you wouldn’t last long, and he didn’t want you to. deciding to challenge him, you roll your hips roughly once. twice. three times. the fourth time, changbin grabs your hair, pulling you off his cock and manhandling you onto the rug. you’re lying flat on your stomach, a hand on the back of your head keeping you still while the other comes down on your ass. harder. again and again, he spanks you until your skin is tingling, prettily marking up your behind. you cry out his name, pleas for mercy mixed with the prettiest moans he’s ever heard. “shut the fuck up. you wanna act like a brat, then i’m going to treat you like one, and you’re going to take it or i won’t touch you for a month.”

there’s just something about the way you want hyunjin as much he wants you that drives him fucking insane. it’s the shy look you give him, softly asking him in a barely audible whisper if he’ll touch you. it makes his cock harder than it’s ever been, mind dizzy as he gives you everything you could ever want. it’s also a bit of an ego boost. he’s never felt so needed, so desperately wanted that you’re unable to think until you have him. you make him feel so good about himself, so good about his abilities to please you. you’ve got hyunjin so wrapped around your finger that he’ll never tell you no, desperate to see the starry eye look you give him any time he gives into your desires. it’s the look you’re giving him now from between his legs. slowly, you bob your head up and down his cock, keeping eye contact with him as you take every inch of him. he loves when you give him head; it’s messy. the way you choke a bit when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, the way your lipgloss makes his shaft a bit sticky, glittery in the pale living room light. your hair is held back by two pearl clips — a present from his recent trip to paris. they compliment you so well, and the fact that it’s the only thing you’re wearing? god, you look angelic on your knees for him. “did you miss me, angel?” he asks, voice raspy from the groans he’s been holding back. as you nod, the first tear falls from your eye, round and fat as it rolls down your cheek. the next one catches your mascara, creating a perfect black line down your cheek. his restrain is slipping, the urge to grab you by the neck and fuck your face escalating the more of him you take. he missed you so much, and there’s nothing he wants more than to have all of you. gently grabbing the back of your head, he holds you flush against his hips, fishing for his phone. with shaky hands, he takes a picture of you like this, looking absolutely divine with his cock deep down your throat. after setting the picture as his wallpaper, he pulls you off his cock, groaning at the way you gasp for breath. there’s a line of spit connecting the tip of his cock to your lips, and suddenly his foggy mind is spinning with all the ways he wants you tonight. it’s been far too long — the night is his to take and use his beautiful angel the way he wants to. “aww, look at the mess you’ve made! you’re drooling all over yourself. you did so well for me, sweet girl.”

jisung didn’t think anyone could rival his sex drive until he met you. it took him by surprise at first — other partners found problems with it, thinking that all he wanted them for was sex. he thought you would be over his constant need to fuck, leaving him to become another ex, but instead, you challenged him. if he wanted to fuck, you wanted to even more, jumping his bones any second you got. there wasn’t a moment you weren’t touching each other; sometimes sexually, groping each other and eagerly tracing fingers over the other’s sensitive parts. sometimes it’s just a comforting hand, a reminder that you’re here to stay. quickly, you two gained the rep of the “couple that always fucks”. what, you didn’t think your friends would notice how often you sneak away? there are only so many times jisung can help you “find the bathroom” without sounding like a broken record. but there was nothing wrong with it — you loved each other, wanted each other so bad you could hardly contain it. who cares that you’re squeezed into a club’s bathroom stall, fingers in each other’s hair as you exchanged sloppy kisses. the loud music drowned out your moans, keeping what was happening in the corner stall a secret from everyone who entered. your skirt was hiked up, panties balled up and stuffed into jisung’s back pocket. his fingers move aggressively in and out of you, palm slapping your clit with every thrust. as he works a third finger in, your shakily undo his belt, barely unzipping his pants before shoving your hand inside. he curses into the kiss as you roughly grab his cock, quickly pumping and mirroring the pace he set. the last place he wanted to shower you with his love was in a crowded bathroom, listening to women giggle and compliment each other as he gets a handjob, but fuck, what was he supposed to do? fuck you right there on the dance floor? oh. oh he shouldn’t thought of that, suddenly obsessed with the idea of showing everyone just who makes you scream loud enough to lose your voice. his cock twitches at the thought, making you smile against the kiss and ask him what he’s thinking about. you sounded so smug, giggling softly at the fucked out expression he already had. it made him blush, but, refusing to let you take control, he roughly shoves the last finger inside you, entire hand rubbing your walls. the stretch makes your jaw drop, not a sound coming out of your mouth. it’s his turn to laugh, cocking an eyebrow at you. “what’s the matter? cat got your tongue?” pulling his hand out, he slowly works it in deeper, watching as your eyes roll back. the feeling is so new to both of you, something neither of you really thought possible until this very moment. his thumb is barely inside you, but it still is, and that’s enough to erase every thought that’s not you from his brain. the new sensation is enough to make you cum quickly, quite literally spilling your release into his hand. once you ride out your high, jisung pulls his hand out of you, bringing it to your open mouth. without even having to ask, your tongue rolls out, licking your cum from the palm of his hand. you’re moaning loudly, little whimpers here and there as you clean your mess. his other hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head up to look at him. “you better quiet down, or else the entire club is going to see just what i can do to you.”

your sex life with felix is more than he could ever ask for. it’s healthy, intense, loving — everything you could ever really want. every time with you was exciting, never dull or lacking in any sense. and even though you’re both very familiar with the other’s body and needs, he can’t help the little blush he gets every time you come on to him. especially when you tell him how pretty he looks, fingers running through his dark hair as your move your body against his. as his face heats up, his cock hardens, damn near popping out of his bottoms the more you shower him with praise. how could he possibly resist you when you’re always so good, both to him and for him? so when you called him in the middle of a writing session with chan, whining and telling your pretty boy how much you need him immediately, he had no choice but to lock himself in an empty practice room. not bothering to turn on the lights, he sinks into the chair in the corner, palming his growing erection over his sweat pants. you’re telling him how you’ve thought about him all day, using the shower head to make yourself cum before crawling into bed and grinding against his pillow. moans spilling through the speaker, felix can feel how red his face has gotten. god, he wishes he was home with you. he wishes you were moaning under his touch, not from the friction of his pillow. he can’t take not seeing you, quickly tapping the video call option. you picked up immediately, and fuck, felix is happy the lights are still off. he’s burning the fuck up. you’re wearing one of his shirts, harden nipples rubbing against the fabric as your bare cunt roughly rides his pillow. should he just…ditch chan? “fuck, baby. you look so pretty.” his low voice is breathy, hand finally working his way inside his sweats. he hissed as his cold hand wraps around his cock, eyes fixed on the way your cunt. he can tell by the wobble of your legs, the shaky tone your moans are laced with that you’re so close. his cock throbbing at the thought of how soaked his pillow is about to be, felix really doesn’t think he can be more turned on. until you start begging for him. for his touch, for his mouth, for permission to cum. you’re almost screaming, repeating the request over and over; cum cum cum. please please please. suddenly, felix couldn’t give two fucks about anything else. “i’m coming home. if you finish before i get there, you’re going to fucking regret it.”

seungmin loves it. like really, he fucking loves it. it’s like having his own personal fuck doll; always ready for his cock whenever he wants to give it to you. which really is often. rarely does he find his stamina running out, happily shoving his tongue or cock or fingers in all of your holes as he takes what’s rightfully his. but today, he’s tired. every inch of his body is screaming with exhaustion, a day of doing a bit too much catching up with him the moment he steps in your shared apartment. he barely steps inside, shutting the door behind him, before pausing. less than eight feet away, you’re sat on your knees, dressed in a new set of lingerie with your white collar on. you never wear your collars unless seungmin specifically requests it, wanting to save them for special occasions. but today, he hadn’t asked. not that he’s upset about, fuck he’s FAR from upset about seeing you in the collar. it’s such a pleasant surprise, and while it gave him a little burst of new energy, it wasn’t enough to overpower the exhaustion. walking up to you, he gently pets your head, heart melting at the way your eyes flutter shut as you lean into his hand. god, you’re such a good little pet for him. excited and ready even when he doesn’t ask for you to be. he hates that he feels so tired today, especially when he hears the bell of your collar ring. “oh, puppy, aren’t you the sweetest? have you been waiting for me?” the way you nod, wide eyes blinking up at him makes his cock twitch alive. the more he stares down at you, the more alive he feels, enough energy building up for him to beckon you to follow him. once on the couch, he pats his lap, and you crawl right onto it. hooking the collar, he brings you in for a kiss, soft but passionate. slow but hot. moaning into his mouth, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body against his. you taste like cherry chapstick and chocolate, intoxicating and addicting. seungmin deepens the kiss as he lets go of your collar, grabbing your hips and making you grind on his lap. your lips tremble against his own, pulling a smirk from him. it’s just so easy to make you such a needy puppy, just a few drags of your hips and you’re already ascending to a different level? god, you must love his cock. seungmin pulls off your lips, taking in your appearance. eyes emptying, lips swollen and a flustered look on your face. you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and it’s moments like this that he’s happy he’s the ONLY person who gets to see you like this. “look at you, humping my leg like a bitch in heat. why don’t you get yourself off and maybe i’ll give you a treat. how does that sound, pup?”

jeongin’s laugh echos off the walls as he spins you around, bending you over the island in the middle of the dorm’s kitchen. it was such a pathetic little effort you just gave, walking through the dorm in nothing but a pair of white cotton panties. nobody else was home, both of you knew that, but what if you weren’t? what would you have done if you ran into felix in the hallway? or seungmin? minho? would you have let them take what they want front you, or would you have been flushed with embarrassment? jeongin almost wants to know. he wants to see how you would react to being exposed to his friends, whining and desperate for him to do something to you that you’ll walk through his home half naked. he never really understood being possessive — you love him, he loves you. there’s nothing more either of you need. besides, he wants his friends to see you like this. he wants to show them how easy it is to tease you. your sex drive is so incredible and he’s fully capable of keeping up with it, but why not make it more fun? why not add someone else to the mix? your panties are ripped from your body, thrown off to the side and completely forgotten about. kicking your legs apart, he presses down on your lower back, making you arch your back. the slick of your cunt sparkles in the clean kitchen light, a little bit of drool pooling in your boyfriend’s mouth. “oh, you poor little thing. so wet you just had to walk around the house like that. what, is my cock not enough for you?” his voice is dripping with a faux sympathy, condescending and just downright mean. you start to shake your head, but a slap to your clit makes you stop. isolating two fingers, jeongin runs them up and down your folds, covering every inch between your clit and hole. it glides through with ease, and really, it’s such a shame that he’s the only one who gets to see this. the ringing of a video chat makes your skin erupt in goosebumps, excitement blooming in your stomach. seungmin answers on the fifth ring, happily greeting his friend. the two of them talk like you’re not shaking on the counter, jeongin not bothering to look at you as he slides a finger inside you. when you gasp out, seungmin questions the sound. his laugh echoes again as he explains to his friend why he called him. what he’s doing, what you’ve done to deserve it. then, it gets worse. they start talking about you; the way you’re clenching around jeongin’s fingers, how pretty you sound, without directing it towards you. like you’re just a pawn in their game. “when are you coming home, hyung? it’s obvious this little whore needs another cock, and she has more than enough holes for the both of us.”

[thebest-medicine]

Three Times Hunter Got Tickled and One Time He Didn’t

Fandom: The Owl House

Words: 4,414 [read on AO3]

Summary: Hunter slowly opens up to the people in his life who have shown time and again they care for him. Maybe being vulnerable around others isn’t the worst thing in the world. [warning, contains: fluff, tickling, tickle magic]

Characters: Lee!Hunter, Ler!Flapjack, Ler!Luz, Ler!Willow and the rest of the Emerald Entrails (ft. Palisman) briefly Lee!Luz and Ler!Hunter

Asks/Prompts/insp:

A/N: Thank you all for sending me these after I posted about toh ideas. I enjoy all of these ideas and had to write something up, taking a little inspiration from each.

I. Flapjack

It was nice having someone to talk to, someone to care for, someone who seemed to want to be around him through everything he’s been through recently.. someone who wanted to stay with him. It was no secret that Hunter had a soft spot for his Palisman, despite how he lowered his voice to a whisper when he would dote on Flapjack or remind the sweet palisman how much he loved him.

Hunter, content that he was (not truly) alone, read aloud to Flapjack, laying back against the bed they had taken up residence in at the Owl House.

King and Luz had worked out a draft of the sequel to Ruler’s Reach, which Hunter had all but jumped at the chance to read when they mentioned it. They had found the sparkles in his eyes and the way he tried so hard to play it casual so, so endearing.

Hunter sometimes paused when reading if he didn’t quite understand something about it. A reference, a word, an interaction between characters especially, since he didn’t have much personal experience on that front.

Flapjack had been around for some time, it seemed, and had some reassurances and answers at times. Other times, he watched Hunter excitedly try to work it out or research some new vocabulary.

This time, he had stopped in confusion after reading about a character’s knees going weak and them falling into laughter just from their friend grabbing their side unexpectedly. Since when did people react like that to being surprised? Maybe they were…. nervous about some, unspoken chemistry between them? And sudden close contact brought all the butterflies in their stomach out in a burst of laughter? He felt a pang of familiarity when he started thinking about it for a second too long.

Flapjack noticed he had gone quiet and tweeted curiously at him.

“Hmm? Oh I was just… that seems weird. Why would touching someone make them laugh..?” Hunter wondered aloud to Flapjack, who chirped cheerily in reply.

“Really?” Hunter gave him a skeptical look.

Flapjack flew up a few inches above him, tittering louder.

“What? Ok…” Hunter set the manuscript to the side and watched Flapjack curiously.

Flapjack chirped approvingly and landed on Hunter’s chest. He sang a few more directions only Hunter could seem to understand.

“Huh? Why would I-“

Flapjack chirped impatiently.

“Fine, I promis-“ He cut himself off with a hum in his throat as Flapjack perched up on his collar bone and leaned down, nuzzling against his neck and under his chin.

“W-hehe- what are you doing?” Hunter finally opened his mouth to question Flapjack only to open the dam as giggles began to sputter out.

Flapjack moved lower to the side of his neck and brushed against a spot just below his ear. Hunter squealed quietly. “Hehey- this feeheheels hehe weird ahaha- oh Ti-hihihihihiton!”

Flapjack chirruped excitedly, and with a burst of energy to match, wiggled further into the crook of Hunter’s neck.

“Hey! Flahahahapja- Aha- okahahay, okay! I gehehehet it I get it!” Hunter chuckled out exasperatedly. “Ahaha-And I don’t think I hahaha- can keep my promiseehehehee to not push you away much longer!”

Hunter’s hands wrung into the blankets as he tried to stop himself from stopping Flapjack and fought the urge to hide his face.

Flapjack tweeted approvingly with a final brush up against Hunter’s chin.

“We gotta keep that a secret…” Hunter sighed tiredly as he reached a finger up for Flapjack to perch upon. “Promise?”

Flapjack fluttered and chirped disapprovingly.

Hunter’s eyes widened. “Wait- what do you mean no???”

II. The Emerald Entrails

Hunter sped across the field, feeling the wind flow through his hair as he gripped his staff tighter. As Skara drove a player from the other team into his trajectory, he and Flapjack shot disappeared in a flash just before colliding with the player. Hunter reappeared in a flash of gold on his staff, flipped upside down as he passed over the startled witch, reaching out swiftly to grab their orange flag.

Just as he flipped back up, letting out a cheer as he readied himself to speed toward the goal spikes, he heard Gus cry out to him.

Hunter’s breath rushed out in a huff as he felt the impact of another witch slamming into him from the side. How had he missed them? Gus sped toward them, and Hunter tossed the flag he’d captured to his teammate just as the other witch wrestled his own flag off his staff. Hunter felt a pang of shame having been the first on their team to lose his flag. He made his way to the sidelines with a frown on his face.

The game continued with a rush as though nothing had happened. Willow took out another witch’s flag as Skara and Viney seemed to herd the other team around the court. Hunter felt himself flush as he thought about their opponents not even being that strong. How had they gotten the better of him?

Hunter continued frowning as he watched the game, his thoughts racing and focusing in on what he could have done better, and… hoping there would be a next time. What if they didn’t want someone like him on their team? What if they found someone better? Gus and Viney lost their flags simultaneously and joined him on the sidelines, pulling him a bit from his thoughts. They stood nearby chatting about their plays as Viney healed a few bruises of Gus’s. Hunter watched Willow and Skara work together seamlessly, truly impressive witches, to snag and place the last 3 opposing team members’ flags. They did it basically all without him. Hunter sighed, then jumped with a start as Viney tapped his shoulder.

“Well? Anything?” Viney asked again.

“Huh?” Hunter blinked at her.

“Did you hear anything I said?” Viney let out a laugh. “Are you good? Need anything healed?”

Hunter turned to face her. “No, yes, I’m fine. I mean- I was out so early I didn’t have time to get hurt anyway.” He stated quietly, turning back to the field and frowning.

Viney gave Gus a look.

Willow and Skara landed as Gus and Viney rushed them with a large bucket of Ghoul-Aid. “Another Entrails Victory!” Willow declared. Hunter didn’t immediately run to greet them, falling a pace behind the other two.

Willow took one look at him and shouted, “HUNTER! Get in here!” He felt a firm vine push him into the group for a hug. He tumbled forward without much protest into the other members of his team. They embraced him. He felt his face and ears warming up, and something… lighten inside of him as he let himself be hugged. He almost smiled.

“We did great!” Skara smiled, giving everyone an extra squeeze before letting go with a laugh.

“Yeah..” Hunter quietly agreed. He still felt instinctively like he let everyone down, despite their reassurances since they started playing together.

He turned away from the group as Flapjack transformed back and chirped at him, landing briefly on his shoulder. “Wh- Nothing!” He argued softly with the little bird as he walked away from the group.

More punctuated chirps.

“Seriously! I’m fine.”

Flapjack tilted his head with an inquisitive titter.

Hunter made his way to the sidelines and started collecting the few things he had brought with him.

Flapjack fluttered off his shoulder and hovered in front of his face, making him pause and stand up straight. “Oh come on!”

Hunter leaned in close with a sigh. “Okay. Fine! They don’t need me. Didn’t you see? They do fine without me.” He whispered.

Flapjack chirped at him once, then landed back on his shoulder as Hunter started to step around him. Flapjack nuzzled his little cheek and beak against Hunter’s neck, just behind his ear. Hunter’s face started to heat up again with a blush. “He-hey!” He scrunched his shoulder up a bit.

Flapjack move to his other shoulder, doing the same. Hunter let out a small laugh which seemed to draw the suddenly quiet group’s attention to him.

“Hunter? Where are you going?” Gus turned to ask him. “And what’s so funny?”

“Trying to ditch us already?” Willow teased, waving him back over.

“No… I.. I was just going to…. go hom…e….” He said weakly, kicking the toe of his shoe into the dirt.

“What? Why? We haven’t even celebrated yet!” Willow moved toward him. “Stay for a bit, please?” “

Hunter stopped in his tracks, bowing his head. “You guys played amazing.. I know I wasn’t… helpful today and I apologize, Captain.” He looked down at the dirt beneath Willow’s shoes.

“What are you talking about?” Willow gaped. “You are a-ma-zing at flyer derby.”

“Everybody gets got at some point in the game! That’s why we are a ~team~!” Skara emphasized.

“But I let everyone down today…”

A now familiar feeling of a large vine shoved against him, and Hunter was quickly swept back over to the group.

“You. Did. Not.” Willow and the rest of the team insisted as they embraced him. “Let. Anyone. Down.”

“Accept our love!” Gus cried out as an order as the whole team squeezed him tight. Everyone’s palisman started to join in too, crowding around the only open space which happened to be… Hunter’s hair and neck. Hunter felt warm and not just in his cheeks from the kindness they showed him. But, he wasn’t one to forgive himself easily. He resisted a bit, fighting to keep his frown. His mouth opened to stutter out some kind of excuse for why he was undeserving of their love and appreciation.

But that thought was suddenly interrupted when Flapjack started nuzzling into his neck again. Hunter made a small noise in his throat, his frown fully faltering. He started to flinch and squirm subtly in everyone’s grip.

Willow looked up and grinned, “Aww Flapjack’s trying to get him to smile!” The edge of her lips turned up in a smirk when she made eye contact with Hunter and saw him fighting down giggles. She knew that look anywhere.

Soon the other palisman took a cue from Flapjack and started nuzzling into Hunter’s neck. His teammates still had him trapped in a bear hug from all sides, and these palisman were really starting to, well, tickle. Hunter squirmed a little more noticeably as he chuckled out a half-hearted. “Let me gooo.”

“Not until you really smile!”

“And stop apologizing!”

“And acknowledge your skills are sick!”

“And accept that we all love having you on this team!”

Everyone yelled back at him cheerily in response. Hunter would have continued to protest but he was too busy trying his hardest not to laugh from these pesky palismen.

Willow gave Hunter a look as a strangled squeal crawled its way out of his throat. “I think they might have the right idea…” She grinned as she caught his eye.

“W-Wait.” Hunter felt the grin that had been fighting for its place on his mouth take the upper hand as he saw a dark smirk spread on Willow’s face. She wormed her hands around within their hug, a large tangle of arms. Hunter’s arms were somewhat pinned to his sides due to the sudden embrace of his teammates. Willow reached his stomach and ran an experimental couple of fingers against the uniform shirt.

Hunter’s smile curled as he fought the urge to laugh, imagining it would only serve to make this situation worse for him. His face flushed a deeper red and his ears to match.

“Aww.. our favorite teammate has some ticklish entrails!” Willow chuckled as she wiggled her fingers in a claw against his middle.

Hunter sputtered, wiggling himself to escape the hug just as he started to laugh out loud. Figuring there was no way around and up was full of tickly palisman, Hunter decided to go down, and fell to the ground as Viney, Gus, Skara, and the Captain smiled down at him like hungry sea monsters who just caught a ship. Hunter squeaked as they laughed and launched at him, piling onto Hunter haphazardly and poking and tweaking at his sides, stomach, and knees. Gus got a hand up by his neck like he had seen the palisman try earlier and was rewarded with a scrunch and a high pitched giggle.

“Hahahah noooo hahaha guys!” Hunter whined, though he was definitely feeling better now than he had been a few minutes ago.

Willow squeezed up both of his sides before slowing to a stop, instructing the others to pause their fingers as well.

“So Hunter. I really want to let you up here.” She started.

“Ok. Great.” He replied, panting.

“But-“

“But…” He swallowed, eyes darting to each of his teammates.

“You need to STOP being so hard on yourself. We seriously love having you on this team. You are amazing.”

Hunter broke eye contact as she spoke.

“I wanna hear it.” Willow insisted as she and Skara and Viney kept him pushed to the ground.

“Hear- what? No!” Hunter protested.

“I wanna hear you agree that you’re amazing..” Willow sing-songed. “Or we’re gonna have to tickle you some more until you do!” She grinned wolfishly.

Hunter let out a small squeak, face turning somehow even more red as his team held him on the ground smiling and teasing. “N-no wayahahaha hey!”

Skara and Viney each squeezed his above his knees while Willow poked into his stomach. Hunter’s hands flailed about as he let out a laugh without much of a fight. Gus and Flapjack along with the other palismen brushed against his ears and neck and collar bones, making him cackle.

“Okay- okayhaahahahy ahh- I get it hehehe!” Hunter pleaded with them between squeals and swells of laughter. Hunter was fully smiling now, his self-deprecating mood be damned.

There was something about the way that his teammates cared enough to reassure him. The way they were determined to see him smile. The way they all were so open with kindness. The way that they were certainly killing him right now- but were also being deliberately gentle with him.

Hunter squeezed his eyes shut as laughter started to pour out more freely. He was dying but he was also enjoying the strange and fun yet unbearable closeness amongst his team.. his… friends. He thought perhaps he would have been flushed just from these thoughts alone. But he didn’t have to worry about that, because the wiggling fingers attacking various spots kept him red and thoroughly too distracted to think about much.

“I wanna hear it…” Willow reminded him.

Hunter gasped at a spot Willow found on his lower ribs. “Okay- ALRIGHT!” He cried out. She stopped but kept her hand in place. The rest slowed down a bit but kept poking and squeezing intermittently at his knees and neck. “I’m ahahahahaha I’m an amazing flyer derby plahahahahayer!” Hunter giggled out.

“And?”

“And whahahahaat?” Hunter whined, looking up at her.

“And person!” She tweaked the spot on his ribs again. Hunter threw his head back with a squeal.

“Wh- Why???????” He whined louder.

Willow reached her other hand across his abdomen and began to tweak his lower ribs on both sides, making Hunter jump under her touch. “Why? Why what?” Willow responded. “Why are you an amazing person? Why do you have to say it? Why are you so ticklish?”

Hunter let out a noise of protest as she teased.

“Well, the first one, I can think of plenty of reasons!” Willow continued.

“We should make a list!” Gus smiled.

“Nooooooo..” Hunter whined through giggles, fighting the urge to cover his face.

“Excellent flyer!” Willow began.

“You’ve got the moves dude!” Skara agreed.

“Sweetest relationship ever with Flapjack!” Viney added.

“Guhuhuhhuuys!”

“Ok we can go into detail about how great you are later, speaking of, that brings us to number two! You have to say it because it’s THE TRUTH!” Willow worked her fingers up toward his underarms and upper ribs, making his laughter heighten in pitch.

“As for the last one, why are you so ticklish, I’m not sure we can ever know the answer!” Gus quipped with a smile.

Willow leaned in closer to Hunter, catching his eyes. “Well, we can at least find out the How and the Where, maybe not the why!”

“I wonder if you could figure out where someone’s ticklish with healing magic?” Viney pondered aloud.

Hunter was pretty sure all the blood in his body was pounding in his head, making him blush from his neck to his ears. He couldn’t take this much longer. Still, they did seem to be gentler with him than he had seen others be. No one was tickling too hard or too fast. He was fully embarrassed and full of laughter but he could breathe. He was just also dying. He would have to…. Say nice things about himself.

He laughed endearingly as he fought weakly against Willow and the others, not doing much to stop any of the tickling attack. His arms fought between clamping down, covering his face, struggling to push away hands on his middle, and swatting at the ticklers attacking his neck and ears. Both were futile. “Ahhahah I’m ahah I’m amazing I’m amazing! Hahahaa please!” He finally yelled through his laughter.

The feeling stopped all at once. “And don’t you forget it.” Willow said with a wink as she helped him to his feet.

Skara punched his shoulder playfully as he got up. “Good game. Can’t wait til the next one!”

“Need any healing after that?” Viney asked with a chuckle and a wide grin.

Hunter chuckled. “No. I’m good.” He looked up only to see Willow giving him a look. “I mean! I mean I’m amazing!” He blurted out.

They all laughed after a beat.

III. Luz (& Magic)

“No way! Get that away from me!” Gus cried out with a lightness in his voice as he rounded the corner into the living room. Hunter looked up at him with alarm.

“Come onnnnn! Help me figure out how it works!” Luz’s voice called back from behind. She appeared a few seconds later, booking it after Gus. They both had smiles on their faces. Hunter tried to assess what was going on when Gus darted behind him.

“No way! I saw what you- what you did to Amity! And Willow!” Gus shrank himself behind Hunter, who instinctively put his arms out to guard Gus from their friend.

“What? What happened?” Hunter gave Luz a strange look. “What is going on?”

“She’s going to torture meeeeee!” Gus whined. He had a smile in his voice though.

“What?” Hunter scrunched his eyebrows at the human. She seemed to have been looking for an opening, a paper in her hand which Hunter assumed contained a glyph combination, like he had seen her use before. “Ok seriously what is going on? Are you ok? Is Willow ok?” Hunter didn’t know what to make of them.

“I just found a new… interesting glyph combo… and I’m trying to test it out!” Luz explained as she reached out a few times for Gus unsuccessfully. She growled, playfully frustrated.

“Wait..” Luz stopped, looking up after Hunter blocked her attempt to grab Gus again. “Maybe you can help me instead!” She got a huge grin on her face.

Gus started to back away from Hunter, laughing nervously as he looked for the next place he could run to or hide.

“I don’t think I want to do.. whatever is making Gus sprint away from you..” Hunter glared at her.

“It’ll be really quick though! I promise! Nothing bad will happen!” Luz smiled, putting on her best honest look.

Gus laughed. “Depends on what you call bad!”

“Are you ticklish, Hunter?”

“What?” Hunter almost squeaked. Luz gave him a look that made him feel like he should definitely answer no.

Luz didn’t wait any longer for their protests before she reached out to slap a glyph onto Hunter’s chest. He looked down at it and her hand as she tapped it. He flinched at the touch.

And then suddenly it was… a feeling. “What did? What did you do?” Hunter felt his skin start to buzz, tingle, like Luz’s hand was still there, but also in 20 other places, lightly moving like Flapjack’s feathers. But there wasn’t a hand there. He gasped. Hunter’s mouth curled up at the sides as he took a few steps backward, falling into Gus.

“It’s a new combo I learned- by accident.. I just don’t know if it..makes someone feel ticklish? Or just tickles them? Or just makes them laugh?” She pondered. “Gus, Willow, and Amity agreed to help me out with some research but then Gus chickened out when the other two started laughing! I’d love to hear your notes though!” She pulled out of a pen and paper and beamed at Hunter.

Gus giggled as he caught Hunter, who was twitching and had his mouth squeezed shut.

“Well it’s-“ Hunter gritted his teeth. “It’s working- haha- ohohohoh no- Titan- how do you stahahhop it?” He dissolved into giggles as the feeling spread and got worse.

This was one of the first times Luz had seen a genuine smile or heard a real laugh from him. She was kind of glad Gus found her a new test subject.

“I’m- not sure how long it would last, but you can also stop it like this.” Luz reached down to the paper still adhering to his chest and pulled it off. Stopping the sensation from spreading further down to his legs or up to his neck…

“That was… terrible.” Hunter laughed. “Never do- wait.. actually.” He reached for the hand Luz extended to help him fully to his feet. “You know what, it was super interesting, Human. In fact, I think you should try it for yourself.” As she was helping him and Gus up, Hunter reached into her pocket and grabbed a handful of her new pre-drawn glyphs.

“How many of these did you make?” Hunter teased. “Do you think they amplify the effects if you use more than one?”

“Um… I don’t know!” Luz stuttered with a nervous smile, eyes wide and bouncing between Hunter and Gus. She bolted backward down the hallway, only to be chased this time by the two witches and their laughter.

IV. Hunter (& Magic)

Willow emerged with a pink face from Luz’s room, followed by Amity, as they finally managed to remove the tickling glyph from each other. For some reason they could not seem to get it off themselves… They heard a squeal of laughter down the hall and went to go help Gus if Luz had captured him too, only to realize the laughter was coming from Luz herself. 

Gus and Hunter high-fived with matching grins as they finished slapping a glyph onto Luz’s back, stomach, and finally a third just above her ankle. Luz contorted and wriggled on the ground with silly, full body laughter.

“That’s what you get!” Gus jeered at her and then smiled,

“Shuuthuhuhut up I dihihihidn’t even gehehet you! Juhuhust Hunter!” Luz managed to correct him between cackles.

Willow let out a laugh at the sight, walking up behind the boys. “Well.” She panted, still giddy from the tickling glyphs she and Amity had just escaped after being left to giggle indefinitely by Luz. “Looks like you guys took care of revenge for us.” She scooted between Hunter and Gus, watched on fondly as Luz snorted and curled and tried desperately to peel off the pesky glyphs.

“Hehehehehehehelp me!” Luz cried, looking to Amity who had yet to condemn her to this life of giggles. “Sweeheheheheheet potato! Dohohohon’t let them dohoho this!” She curled up like an armadillo only to end up flailing about as different spots started tingling, her feet, her neck, her sides, as the glyph magic spread.

“Aww…” Amity gave her a sympathetic look. “I‘ll help.” She paused, a slight grin gracing her still pink face. “Soon...”

Luz wailed in betrayal as she continued kicking and swatting at the not fully there tickling.

“So, Luz, is it worse with more than one? Like you hypothesized?” Gus cooed at her.

“OF COHOHOHOOURSE IT IS!” Luz cackled. “Pleasahhsshheehehehe have merceehehey!”

“Alright, alright.” Amity and Gus both reached down to remove the glyphs, leaving Luz a giggly puddle on the floor.

“So… she got you with the tickle glyphs too, hmm?” Willow wiggled her eyebrow at Hunter.

“Oh-” Hunter turned red. “Uh, yeah.” He felt a tinge of embarrassment bubbling in his middle. He hoped his ears wouldn’t turn red too. “She was, well, trying to get Gus, but-“

“Aw- did you save him?!” Willow pulled him into a quick hug. “How sweet.”

Hunter gave a half-smile, still rebooting for a second when she let him go. “Um- yeah- sure, I guess.” His ears were definitely red.

Gus startled Hunter when he grasped onto his shoulder from the other side, dramatically reciting, “My hero!”

“You know what, we should see if we could use something like that as a secret weapon for flyer derby!” Willow said a little too evilly for Hunter’s liking. 

“Maybe we... don’t bring those things to practice with everyone.” Hunter laughed nervously, knowing he was still a bit pink.

“Aww don’t worry! We’ll be so nice to our hero!” Gus and Willow continued to tease while reassuring him.

They whisked Hunter away from the other two girls without any protest from him. Amity knelt down beside Luz, who wiggled closer and leaned her head back in her lap, still giggling lightly.

“That was prehehetty bad, omg,” Luz giggled as she stared up at her girlfriend with puppy dog eyes. She broke eye contact for a moment. “Sorry I left you and Willow like that to chase after Gus…”

“Well, I would’ve liked to have gotten a little payback, but I think Hunter and Gus took care of that for now.” Amity told her softly. She walked two fingers cheekily up Luz’s arm toward her face and tapped a finger on her nose. “Although at some point, I think I should help you figure out whether there’s a difference between your new trick and the real thing…”

Luz gaped at her, a nervous protest forming on her lips.

“Don’t worry.” Amity pressed a kiss to her temple. “Not today.”

Luz giggled. “Okay.” And she let herself melt into Amity’s touch, content to rest right there in the middle of the floor.

[ser-rctslcyer]

Hunger || Steven Grant + Rydal Keener

Pairing: Rydal Keener x AFAB! Gender-neutral! Reader

Word Count: 700+

Synopsis: Returning from a night out only leads to one thing.

Warnings: NSFW, Polyamory, Coded Language (clit & cunt), Light Boob Worship, Breeding

A/N: this was suppose to be an ask for  @mccnknightstcrdst  but i lost my fucking mind

The door was shut just as fast as it was opened; locked and left creaking against the frame as your body was pressed into it. Steven’s lips fit snug against your own, stealing the very breaths away from your lungs and filling them with a burning desire. Rydal’s hands worked quickly over the button of your shirt, warm hands kneading the soft flesh of your hips for a moment, before freeing you— you shake as the cool are from the flat hardens your nipples.

A hand snakes its way into your pants, fingers brushing and rubbing over your folds; tingling shooting through you as you felt his ring enter your core— finger curling inside of you. Moans leave you, devoured by Steven’s own as he cups your breast; his thumb rolling the pebbled buds as he licked the inside of your mouth. It was silent other than the soft needy panting between you all and you relax into the door as your lovers get you off.

Its not for long before your being whisked away, tucked between the two of them as their lips find purchase on every inch of skin they can reach. Hands wander and knead, drawing whines out if you as you cling to keep yourself steady. Your moment of reprieve is only when their lips find each other and they share a lustful kiss.

They pull away from you briefly, getting you out of your bottoms and shoes quickly, leaving you exposed for the both of them. Steven cups your cunt, peppering you jaw in kisses while Rydal’s fingers work you clit, nipping at your ear. You wobble and their grip tightens before they exchange a knowing look.

Steven moves behind you and Rydal moves upfront, holding you upright as the curator’s hands finally leave your body. You hear him struggle to undo his pants, too eager to pull his cock— quiet curses echoing from behind you as he finally gets a hand on himself. A few strokes and his hand is already back on your hip, and in one swift motion he pushes his cock all the way inside of you, knocking the air out if you.

Whimpers leave the both if you as you adjust, clamped around his cock like you want to keep him there. The boys keep you in places from moving, driving your brain into deeper pleasure as you feel the pressure in your lower stomach where he’s buried inside. After a while, his hand trials over your stomach, pressing against the small bulge as he grinds his hips— back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Before pulling himself out nearly all the way and shoving himself all the way in. The sudden thrust makes you cry out as Steven begins rhythmically slamming his dick into you with such precision your toes curl. He moans against your neck, soft whines of “moonlight” and “love” leaving his lips; his other hand  finds your chest again, squeezing, and letting more whines free from your mouth.

  Blurry-eyed you look back to Rydal, who watches, licking over his lips before falling to you knees. You can barely make it out but you see him, pumping his cock, eyes glued to Steven fuck your sloppy wet hole. He notices your gaze, winking teasingly before leaning in and placing his mouth over your cunt— tongue flicking over your clit. The whine gets caught in your throat as he times his lapping with Steven’s thrusts, pleasured shiver wracking over your body and your stuck.

  Stuck with this overwhelming sensation growing in your belly. With every flick and press of his tongue, with ever sharp thrust and squeeze of your tit, the soft wet smacking sound that echoes between you three— its damn right intoxicating.

The fire in your belly boils, dam breaking as you cum so hard you see white. Relishing in the cries into your neck as Steven buries himself inside of you; hand pressed firmly against your stomach as he fills you cunt up. Both of you are panting as Rydal licks you through the aftershocks until you begin to squirm. He stands, licking his own wet lips and placing his own cum covered fingers into your mouth for you to clean.

Once you’re done he kisses you, groaning at the taste of himself— and then Steven captures your lips, licking the rest from your mouth. Worn looks are on all of your faces and yet desire still lingers in your eyes.

  Minutes of needy kisses pass and it is decided— there’s still a bed to ruin.