#meanwhile I’m unable to

[loullipopx]

sleepyhead

[billie-the-sleepyhead]

I am convinced I full ass confused the survivors when I was playing earlier because I was trying to hit one of them and the Rebecca got in the way and she’d already been hooked twice (if I remember right) and I didn’t want to kill her so I just froze when I hit her. I just froze and looked up an Yun-jin(who I’d been trying to hit) and stepped back to let Kate and Feng heal Rebecca.

Feng then tried to flashlight me, it didn’t work because of lightborn, so she gave her flashlight to Rebecca who also tried to flashlight me(which still didn’t work). I was basically tamed by that point, I just followed Yun-jin around while she lead me around the map crouching and nodding at me, letting her stun me so she could get points. She let me hook her as soon as everyone left and I just stood in the corner facing away as soon as she was on hook.

(I had another survivor do the same thing when I decided to play friendly on purpose today. She leaped into the basement after making me chase her around shack during the collapse. I didn’t feel like watching this one die either but was grateful for the points so I faced the wall then too.)

[dark-elf-writes]

*stares into the distance like it’s the office*

And she wonders why my family wants to be with her. She’s like this with all of us. Remembers everyone’s birthdays, anniversaries, hobbies, interests, favorite foods, and their partners too. I swear to god she’s been part of my brothers relationships in everything but name for a while now. She literally helps them and their partners plan stuff for each other when they ask (pretty much always if they want it to be good). I mean she literally made my older brother’s wife macaroons because she mentioned wanting to try them but not being able to bc of an allergy one (1) time.

Some people are really too kind for this world and if that’s anyone it’s our beloved tree frog.

[celestialprincesse]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

When Simon had given you his work address, and the password for the door to get in, you’d scoffed at the thought of needing to use it. You’d grown comfortable in your quiet life, no longer plagued with the urge to run, with the fear of being caught up with. 

You and Charlotte. 

You’d never been able to picture your position now, shaking fingers prodding at the keypad, a crying Charlotte on your hip. So absorbed in your fear, which had struck you the moment you’d returned from Charlotte’s school pickup to see your apartment door open, that you don’t even see the bearded man opening up the door from the inside for you. 

“Everything alright, Miss?” He questions in clear concern, ushering you into the entry hall with blue eyes darting between yourself and your wailing daughter. 

“I’m here - Simon said i could find him here if I needed anything.” You hiccup, not even having noticed the tears ebbing down your cheeks, so consumed by the realisation that you need to get out. Find safety. Find Simon. Maybe even that other man you met once - Mac something.

Too distraught to protest, you allow yourself to be ushered into some sort of reception room, noting the way the older man looks behind you with a vigilant scan before shutting the door. "Is Simon Riley here?" You plead with him again, terrified at the thought of being unable to see your neighbour, having someone to soothe your wailing daughter whilst you yourself calm down.

Before the blue eyed man can get a word out, two other men are barrelling into the reception area, one of them, thankfully, being Simon. You can't help but choke out a relieved sob when he tentatively comes closer, allowing you the chance to deny his approach, which you don't.

"What happened? Can you take some deep breaths for me?"

The entire room seems to pick up into a flurry of activity the minute the other two men in the room, Simon's friend you'd met that one time, and the other man, seem to realise that not only do you and Simon know one another, but also that you and the little tot in your arms are important to him.

Simon quickly ushers you to one of the worn leather couches, although he never forces you to sit, seeing how high strung you are at the current moment, the way you clutch Charlotte to your chest like she'll be ripped from your grasp at any given moment. Meanwhile, MacTavish looks on in concern, checking the car park you'd just come in from, and the other man slowly guides a glass of water into your shaking hand.

"Door was open when I got home." You manage to choke, letting Simon ease your vice grip on your daughter, just enough to hoist her up on his hip, before pulling you into his chest.

"S' okay, yeah? Promise you're in good hands here." He soothes, rocking the three of you from side to side, taking the opportunity to share a look between Price, Soap and himself. "Listen, the boys will go and have a look, okay? Promise they won't touch anything or mess anything up, just make sure everything is okay."

You give a hesitant nod, sniffling into Simon's chest as another taller, leaner man walks into the room, his handsome features immediately twisting into concern at the odd sight.

Over the next few hours, you, Simon, Charlotte and the sweet man you'd come to know as Kyle wait out on base, nervously awaiting the return of Captain Price and Simon's closest friend Johnny.

Admittedly, your situation is terrifying, and you're still not quite sure where to go from here, but at least you're in good hands. Four pairs of them.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Vegas Baby | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: After winning his fourth world championship, Max Verstappen stuns the world with a live radio proposal.

A/N: This was inspired by this post by @altxanna idea so good it made me get over my writer's block and write this 4.2k monstrosity.

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Max Verstappen crossed the finish line in fifth place, but that didn’t matter. The entire world was fixated on the fact that he had just won his fourth World Championship.

“AND MAX VERSTAPPEN DOES IT AGAIN! FOUR WORLD TITLES!” David Croft shouted, his voice teetering on the edge of hysteria. The Las Vegas skyline lit up like a fireworks display on overdrive, the crowd roaring in approval.

“Forget where he finished—he’s a four-time world champion!” Martin Brundle yelled, equally excited. “This is history!”

Max, however, barely seemed to notice he’d crossed the line in fifth. He was just… Max. Calm. Collected. His voice came through the radio, steady as always, but with a hint of amusement.

“Thanks, guys. It’s been an incredible season. I’m so proud of the team. Huge thanks to GP, Christian, everyone.”

“You’ve done it, Max! Four-time champion, man!” GP screamed, clearly unable to keep the excitement in. “This is massive, mate! You’ve earned this!”

“Yeah, I know,” Max said, his voice deadpan. “But listen, there’s one more thing.”

The radio went quiet for a second.

“Uh… What’s that, Max?” GP asked, his tone suddenly cautious.

Max didn’t respond right away. Then, he casually dropped the bomb.

“Y/n, a bet’s a bet. We’re getting married tonight.”

“WHAT?!” GP exploded. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Max’s tone didn’t change. “We’re getting married. Vegas chapel. Tonight.”

The entire Red Bull garage froze. Even the other engineers looked around in total confusion.

Max continued, his voice as if he were discussing the weather. “It’s been planned. I won the fourth title, she agreed to the bet, so… wedding time.”

GP sputtered. “Max, you—WHAT? No, no, no. You can’t just say that on the radio! You can’t just—”

“I’m doing it,” Max said, already tired of the conversation. “It’s happening. Vegas. Tonight.”

The radio was dead silent for a long moment, then GP finally spoke, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and dread. “Max, I—What in the world did I just hear? Are you seriously making your wedding announcement over the team radio?”

“Of course, I’m serious,” Max replied. “She said if I won my fourth title in Vegas, I could pick the wedding date. So, I picked tonight.”

“Max, you can’t—you—what the hell is wrong with you?!” GP spluttered.

Back in the commentary booth, David Croft could barely hold it together. “Did Max Verstappen just announce his wedding on live radio after winning his fourth world championship? Is that what I just heard?!”

“I think that’s exactly what you heard, Crofty,” Martin Brundle said, voice dripping with astonishment. “This is pure, unfiltered Verstappen.”

David Crofty just stared at the screen, blinking in disbelief. “Honestly, I can’t even process this. We’ve seen some wild moments in F1, but this... this might just take the cake.”

“Yeah,” Brundle said with a chuckle. “You can’t script this stuff. Not even in Vegas.”

Meanwhile, in Red Bull’s hospitality area, Y/n was standing stock-still, her eyes wide as she stared at the screen. The radio call still blaring in her ears.

“Did—did he just announce our wedding? Like… right now?!” she hissed, her hand gripping the counter in disbelief.

A Red Bull mechanic standing nearby looked just as stunned. “Uh, I think he did, yeah.”

“He’s lost it,” one engineer muttered under his breath, his face pale.

“I don’t even know what’s happening anymore,” another whispered.

The others weren’t any better off, most of them looking like they might faint. A PR rep came over, trying to maintain professionalism but clearly in shock. “Y/n, um… Max just… did he just announce your wedding?”

“Don’t look at me,” Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t even… He’s the worst.”

“Vegas, baby!” another joked, only to get smacked in the arm by Y/n as she stormed past.

Back on the track, Max, utterly relaxed, parked his car in parc fermé and stepped out, throwing his helmet in the air before catching it like it was no big deal.

“So, yeah,” Max said, grinning at the cameras. “Got my fourth title, and now I get to marry my girl. Vegas chapel, let’s go!”

The reporters and photographers surrounding him stared at him in utter confusion.

“Wait, what? You’re—what?!” one reporter stammered.

Max smirked. “Yep, Vegas. I won, she lost, and now we’re getting married.”

He tossed a thumbs-up to the camera as if it were a completely normal thing to say.

“Max,” one reporter finally managed, “you’re serious about this, right? You’re really getting married in Vegas?”

Max’s grin widened. “I’m serious. A bet’s a bet. No turning back.”

Back in the Red Bull garage, chaos had officially set in. Christian Horner, who had been pacing for the last five minutes, finally stopped and glared at a nearby mechanic. “What am I supposed to do with this now?!”

“I don’t know, Christian,” the mechanic said, holding up his hands in defeat. “Maybe we start picking out flowers?”

“Someone get me a drink,” Christian muttered, walking off, leaving a sea of confusion behind him.

Y/n stormed through the paddock like a woman possessed, her face a mix of disbelief, panic, and barely contained rage.

She spotted Max leaning casually against a barrier in parc fermé, looking like he had no care in the world—despite having just announced their impending Vegas wedding to the entire world. He was surrounded by Lewis, Fernando, George, and Carlos, who were all still there congratulating him and clearly trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“MAX!” Y/n screeched as she closed the distance.

Max turned, his smug grin stretching even wider. “Oh, there she is! The future Mrs. Verstappen. Took you long enough.”

Y/n planted herself directly in front of him, glaring. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Max blinked, his expression far too innocent. “What? I kept my promise.”

“Your promise?” Y/n echoed, incredulous. “You hijacked the championship celebration to announce a fake wedding! On LIVE TELEVISION!”

“It’s not fake,” Max said matter-of-factly. “A bet is a bet.”

Carlos, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, wait, wait. You bet your wedding on the championship?”

“Of course,” Max said with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m a man of my word.”

George choked on air. “You’re a menace.”

“Exactly,” Y/n said, throwing her hands in the air. “Max, this is insane! You can’t just—”

“Relax, schatje,” Max interrupted, his tone annoyingly casual. “It’s Vegas. This is what people do here.”

“Not normal people!” Y/n snapped.

Lewis, still dabbing at his face with a towel, gave a bewildered laugh. “I’m sorry, are we actually talking about a real wedding right now?”

“Yes,” Max said confidently. “Tonight.”

“No,” Y/n shot back.

“Yes.”

“MAX!”

“Yes, Y/n,” Max said, leaning forward slightly. “We are getting married tonight, and that’s final.”

“Final?!” she spluttered. “How is this final? There’s no plan, no venue, no—”

“Vegas has plenty of chapels,” Max interrupted smoothly.

“I don’t have a dress!”

“You’ll look great in anything,” Max countered.

Y/n groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even have someone to walk me down the aisle!”

Max tilted his head, clearly unbothered. “Oh, that’s easy.” He turned to his left, where Lewis stood mid-sip from his water bottle. “Lewis! Can you walk Y/n down the aisle tonight?”

Lewis froze, the bottle halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“Can you walk her down the aisle?” Max repeated, as if this were a completely reasonable request.

“I—” Lewis blinked, looking between Max and Y/n. “Uh… sure?”

“What?! No!” Y/n shouted.

“Why me?” Lewis asked, baffled.

Max shrugged. “You’re a world champion. She deserves someone of high status.”

Before Y/n could combust, Fernando Alonso stepped forward, a sly grin on his face. “Hold on,” he said, raising a hand. “If anyone is walking her down the aisle, it should be me. I’m the most appropriate for the role.”

Lewis turned to him, visibly confused. “How do you figure that?”

Fernando gave a dramatic shrug. “Experience. I’m wiser, more distinguished. A father figure, if you will.”

Y/n groaned, “Oh my God, Fernando—”

Lewis snorted. “Father figure? Please. More like grandfather figure.”

The group exploded into laughter. George doubled over, wheezing, while Carlos clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his own cackles.

“You wound me, Hamilton,” Fernando said, his tone mock-offended.

“Yeah, but I’m not wrong,” Lewis quipped, smirking.

“This is not happening,” Y/n muttered, covering her face with her hands.

Max leaned closer to her, his grin pure mischief. “See? Problem solved. You have two excellent candidates to walk you down the aisle.”

“This is NOT solved!” Y/n screeched.

George finally spoke up, still chuckling. “You know, for the record, this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen”

“Agreed,” Carlos said, shaking his head with a grin. “But I can’t look away.”

Max clapped his hands together. “Alright, then. We’re all set! Lewis or Fernando—it’s Y/n’s choice.”

“I CHOOSE NEITHER!” she yelled, clearly on the verge of a breakdown.

Max leaned back, entirely unfazed. “Suit yourself. But one way or another, schatje, we’re getting married tonight.”

Y/n turned to the other drivers, her eyes pleading. “Can someone PLEASE talk some sense into him?”

Lewis shrugged. “I don’t know, Y/n. He seems pretty set on it. You might just have to roll with it.”

Fernando smirked. “And let me know when you decide. I’ll be practicing my ‘giving away the bride’ speech.”

George buried his face in his hands again, mumbling, “This is a fever dream.”

Y/n, meanwhile, was contemplating her life choices as Max grinned at her, utterly pleased with himself. This was going to be a nightmare—and she was the star attraction.

Suddenly, Lando came sprinting out of nowhere, practically skidding to a stop in front of Max. His curls were a chaotic mess, and his face was split into an ear-to-ear grin that made him look like an overexcited puppy.

“MAX!” Lando yelled, throwing his arms up. “FOUR-TIME WORLD CHAMPION! YOU LEGEND! Also mate, what the hell?! Are you really getting married?!” 

Max turned, his ever-present grin widening. “Obviously.”

“I thought it was just a rumor!” Lando said, flinging his helmet onto a nearby table. “I mean, come on, you say insane stuff on the radio all the time! I figured this was one of those things.”

“Nope.” Max popped the “p” for emphasis. “It’s happening. Tonight.”

Y/n, who had been pacing nearby in a futile attempt to process her life choices, groaned audibly. “I hate all of you. All of you.”

Lando glanced at her, then back at Max. “Wait, so this is real? Like… actually real?”

“As real as it gets,” Max replied, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “And since you’re here…”

Lando squinted. “Since I’m here, what?”

Max’s grin turned sly, his hand still on Lando’s shoulder. “How do you feel about being my best man tonight?”

Lando froze, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” Max said, still looking far too pleased with himself.

“Me?!” Lando gestured wildly at himself, his voice rising an octave. “Why me?!”

“Why not you?” Max countered smoothly.

“I don’t know!” Lando threw up his hands. “You could ask your trainer, your engineer—anyone! We’ve been rivals this entire year!”

Max tilted his head, his expression softening slightly. “Exactly. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs this year, yeah? Fighting for the championship and everything. But at the end of the day…” He paused, his grin shifting to something more genuine. “You’re a good friend, Lando. One of the best. And I’d like us to bury the hatchet. Tonight.”

The sudden sincerity hit Lando like a truck. His eyes widened, his lip quivering just a little as he stared at Max. “Max…”

The group went quiet—well, as quiet as it could be with the chaos of the paddock swirling around them. Even Y/n stopped pacing to stare, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You really mean that?” Lando asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“Of course,” Max said, giving Lando a firm pat on the back. “You’ve been there through all of it, mate. Who else would I want standing next to me tonight?”

Lando’s hand flew to his face, his bottom lip wobbling. “Oh my God. I think I’m gonna cry.”

“Don’t cry,” George mumbled, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. “This is ridiculous enough already.”

“Shut up, George!” Lando snapped, though it lacked any real venom. He sniffled, blinking rapidly. “Max, you big idiot. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Max smirked. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

Y/n, watching this entire exchange with her arms crossed, muttered under her breath, “I cannot believe this is my life right now.”

Carlos, standing nearby, leaned over to George and whispered, “Do you think Lando will actually cry at the altar?”

“Oh, 100%,” George replied without hesitation.

“I’M NOT CRYING!” Lando shouted, wiping furiously at his eyes.

“Sure, mate,” Carlos said, grinning.

“Shut up!” Lando whirled back to Max, pointing a slightly wobbly finger at him. “Fine! I’ll do it. I’ll be your best man. But only because that was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Good.” Max nodded approvingly. “We’re gonna have a great time. Bring tissues, though. You’ll need them.”

Lando groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re emotional,” Max teased, clapping him on the back again.

“Can I leave now?” Y/n interjected, looking thoroughly exasperated.

“Nope,” Max said cheerfully. “We’ve still got wedding planning to do. And Lando needs to rehearse his speech.”

“Speech?!” Lando exclaimed, his face paling. “No one said anything about a speech!”

“Oh, come on,” Carlos said, grinning. “Just wing it.”

“This is a nightmare,” Y/n muttered.

“See, schatje?” Max said, turning to her with a mischievous smile. “Everything’s settled”

“Kill me now,” she groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

“Not before the wedding,” Max quipped. “I need my bride alive, schatje.”

Carlos, grinning, nudged George. “Do you think she’ll kill him before they even make it to the altar?”

“I actually might” Y/n snapped, making everyone laugh—except her.

Max clapped his hands together, cutting through the lingering laughter. “Alright, boys, fun’s over. See you after the podium, yeah?”

Carlos snorted, throwing an arm around George. “Come on, hombre. Let’s get out of here before they decide to do something crazier.”

Max turned to Carlos, his grin turning devious. “Speaking of you, Carlos, I need another groomsman. What do you say?”

Carlos blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Me? Really?”

“Obviously,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “You’re good at standing around looking pretty. Perfect for the job.”

“I’m honored,” Carlos said, puffing out his chest dramatically.

Y/n, standing a few feet away, raised her hand. “Dibs on George for my side, then.”

George’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?”

“I called dibs,” Y/n said firmly, crossing her arms.

“That’s not how this works!” Max exclaimed, glaring at her.

“It is now,” she shot back, grinning.

Max groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You are impossible.”

“You’re marrying me,” she said sweetly. “This is your problem now.”

Before Max could argue further, he grabbed her hand, tugging her away from the group. “We need to pick more people. Properly.”

As they walked through the paddock, Max started listing names under his breath. “Alright, I want Charles on my side.”

“No way,” Y/n said immediately.

Max frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I’m picking him,” Y/n declared, speeding up her pace as soon as she spotted Charles standing by his car.

Max groaned. “You can’t just steal all the good ones!”

“Watch me.”

By the time they reached Charles, Y/n was already stepping in front of Max, her grin wicked. “Charles! You’re going to be my maid of honor.”

Charles looked up, his face blank with confusion. “Wait, what?”

Max shoved Y/n aside, scowling. “Ignore her, Charles. You’re going to be one of my groomsmen.”

“No, he’s not!” Y/n snapped, stepping back in front of Max.

“Yes, he is!” Max shot back, sidestepping her.

Charles blinked between them, his brows furrowing. “What is happening right now?”

“You’re gonna help me with my wedding,” Y/n said, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. “It’s happening tonight.”

Charles just stared at her, still not sure if he was in a dream or being pranked. “Uh… are you serious?”

“Charles, listen to me,” Y/n said, grabbing his hands dramatically. “I need you on my side. You’re the only one who understands how insane Max is.”

Max pulled her back by the shoulder. “He does not understand that! He’s my friend, not yours.”

Charles raised a hand. “Guys, what—”

“Do you really want to stand next to Max?” Y/n asked, cutting him off.

Max glared at her. “Do you really want to be stuck with her?”

“I feel like I don’t want to be stuck with either of you,” Charles said cautiously, his confusion growing.

“Charles,” Y/n pleaded, gripping his arm. “Please. You’ll get to wear something cool”

Charles blinked, still completely befuddled. “I… I don’t know what’s happening. Am I even invited to this wedding? Because you’re asking me to do a lot without any context.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Max interjected, gesturing wildly. “You’ll have more fun on my side. I’ll let you hold the rings.”

“No we’re letting Yuki hold the rings!” Y/n shouted.

Charles blinked again, looking between them like they’d both lost their minds. “Are you two seriously fighting over me right now?”

“Yes!” they yelled in unison.

Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Say yes to me, Charles,” Y/n said, batting her eyelashes.

“No, say yes to me,” Max countered, practically growling.

Charles threw his hands up. “Fine! I’ll be on Y/n’s side. But only because she asked first.”

Y/n cheered, sticking her tongue out at Max. “Suck it!”

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Max muttered as Charles smirked at him.

The wedding was somehow happening. In the span of a few hours—thanks to an intense series of last-minute phone calls, frantic text messages, and a team of Red Bull employees being worked to the bone—the ceremony was set to begin. And despite the fact that no one really knew how they’d gotten here, the whole thing had turned into the weirdest Formula 1 event in history.

Y/n stood in the back, adjusting her dress, eyeing the people around her in disbelief. Max had somehow managed to throw together an entire wedding in record time, which was somehow both impressive and terrifying. She was walking down the aisle with Lewis and Fernando—two of the most iconic figures in F1. She couldn’t decide between them, so she’d invited both to walk her down the aisle. Because, why not?

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Lewis asked, smoothing out his jacket. His suit was impeccable, of course. He was an icon of style, so a last-minute wedding wasn’t going to stop him from looking good.

“I’m just trying to survive this,” Y/n muttered

“We’re in Vegas. Anything goes,” Fernando quipped, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “At least the wedding's got personality."

“You both know I’ll never live this down, right?” Y/n said, shaking her head. "This whole thing is so Max, I feel like I should apologize to everyone for being part of it."

“You’ll be fine,” Fernando added with a smile, adjusting his cufflinks. “It’s Max. You know he doesn’t do anything half-heartedly. He’s probably already planned the honeymoon.”

Y/n laughed nervously. “I’m pretty sure he has. You’ve both seen what happens when Max gets an idea in his head. And somehow... this is actually happening.”

“You’ve got this,” Lewis said. “We’re here for you.”

Before Y/n could respond, the doors swung open, signaling that it was time. The aisle was a bit too short for a proper procession, and the whole thing had a sense of hurried chaos as they started walking down toward the altar.

At the front, Max stood there waiting, looking like he was about to burst with excitement. His best man, Lando, had been fighting tears all night and was now sniffling into a tissue. "I swear this is the happiest day of my life," Lando muttered to Carlos, wiping his eyes.

Carlos, looking slightly concerned, just shook his head. “It’s their wedding Lando, not even your own. stop bawling.”

“Yeah, but it’s their wedding,” Lando said, eyes still damp. “There’s too much love in the air.”

Max had his hands tucked in his pockets, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. When he spotted Y/n, he gave her an exaggerated wink, as if to say, “We made it.”

“You good?” Fernando asked, glancing at Y/n as they reached the front.

“I’m questioning every life choice I’ve made,” Y/n muttered under her breath, feeling the full weight of the absurdity of the situation.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Max said, grinning.

At the back of the room, Oscar and Franco stood with baskets of flowers, both looking thoroughly confused in their roles as flower boys. Oscar had been dragged into this because of his unwillingness to protest. Franco, on the other hand, was too amused to care about the situation and just went along with it.

“Oscar, why are we doing this again?” Franco whispered, furrowing his brows as he sprinkled petals on the floor.

“Because Yuki said we had to. And I’m not arguing with him,” Oscar muttered, holding his basket as if it were a grenade about to go off.

“Who cares? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience! Attending Max Vertsappen’s wedding?,” Franco said with stars in his eyes, “I’ll tell my grandkids about this.”

Yuki, holding the rings, couldn’t contain his excitement as he gave them instructions. “Guys, you’re doing great. Just, uh, try not to look confused. I need this to look professional. Oscar throw the petals properly! more passion! more energy! more footwork!”

“I’m already questioning my entire existence,” Oscar said, looking at Franco for solidarity. Franco just smiled and threw a handful of petals into the air.

The Elvis officiating the wedding was already in full swing, not entirely sure of the gravity of the moment but having a blast nonetheless.

"Y’all ready to get hitched?" Elvis said, his voice more vibrant than Y/n could’ve imagined.

Max, barely containing his excitement, looked over at Y/n. “Ready for this, love?” he asked, his voice low, though it carried a hint of playfulness.

Y/n smiled, glancing at him for a moment. “More than ever.”

Then, in front of everyone, they exchanged their vows.

Max spoke first, his voice unwavering, but there was an undeniable tenderness in his words. “Y/n, you’ve turned my world upside down. You’ve made every race, every moment, better just by being there. I promise to keep being the person you’ve decided to stand at an altar with, the person you love—even when I’m an absolute nightmare. I’ll always fight for us, for this. I love you.”

Y/n could feel her heart in her throat as she spoke. “Max, you’ve always been… Max. But you’ve shown me that you are a person with the biggest heart. You’ve made me laugh, cry, and love harder than I thought I could. You’re my best friend, and I can’t wait for the next chapter of this crazy life with you. I love you.”

There were no grand gestures or over-the-top theatrics; instead, it was just them—raw, honest, and completely present in this moment.

Max smiled at her, the kind of smile that made everything feel right, before turning to the officiant.

“Elvis, hit me with that ‘you may kiss the bride’ line,” Max said, giving a wink.

And so, amidst the madness, they kissed, sealing their vows with a moment that felt right in all its simplicity. The crowd cheered, some clapping and others, like Lando, wiping away happy tears. It wasn’t the wedding anyone had expected, but it was exactly what Max and Y/n had needed.

As they pulled away, Y/n’s gaze met Max’s, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of them, everything else fading away.

As the ceremony ended and the newlyweds turned to leave, the crowd of friends and teammates erupted into applause, some of them still trying to process what had just happened.

Lando was grinning, wiping his eyes. “This is so perfect. I’m still not sure how we managed to get here in two hours, but it’s amazing.”

Charles was smiling too, giving Y/n a thumbs up. “Congrats, both of you. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Max is married now.”

Lewis patted Max on the back. “She’s got you now. Good luck with that.”

Y/n smiled at him, a little breathless. “So, are you planning to annoy me for the rest of our lives?”

Max grinned back, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Absolutely. You’ve signed up for it, so no turning back now.”

Everyone laughed, but there was a deep sincerity in the air. This was their moment—imperfect and hurried, but beautiful in its own way.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I LOVEEEEE YOU FICS OMG OMG

If you could be so kind to write a DomgojoxBratreader where he is her academic rival and they are always arguing but they start falling for each other. She is sassy and he matches her energy 🙏🏽🙏🏽

I pushed her back to the wall and said “You done?”

Tags: dom!Satoru x fem!Reader, brat!Reader, brat taming, academic rivals, rivals to lovers, slight angst, maybe hurt/comfort, hea, cursing, smut, mdni, spanking, slight impact play, cunninglingus, unprotected sex, this shit gonna be nasty i fear.

An: This all takes place when they're in a like Jujutsu Tech College... bare with me lmao. It's basically the events from their highschool years, but I made it to where they happened while they were in college, so all the characters are of age here. I looooove the academic rivals trope after I wrote my Hiromi fic 😩 you can read that here if you’re interested! Also, so sorry but this is a long one... 7.3k words...

Thwak!

Your body jolts forward a bit as you’re slung unceremoniously over Satoru’s shoulder. His large palm wooshes to connect with your bottom once more.

Thwak!

“Why is it always the small ones who I can throw around so effortlessly that talk the most shit?” His face is occupied with that shit eating grin as he gives your ass another spank just for the hell of it. There’s nothing you can do about it anyways. He may as well have his fun.

“Put me down, Satoru!!” You whine, trying to jostle your way out of his grip, but he’s having none of it. Your fists pound at his muscular back, but he continues to laugh. Without your cursed technique, you’re really are just a weakling to him.

“Where are your manners, princess? That’s no way to speak to your upperclassmen.” He taunts as he continues to carry you around with ease. “Maybe if you call me senpai, I’ll put you down.”

“Fuck no! I’m not doing that, weirdo!” You huff as your body continues to wriggle in his grasp. Geto watches with an amused look on his face. He makes no effort to stop Satoru’s shenanigans since you really were asking for this by provoking him all day today.

Your cursed technique is the only one that comes close to countering Satoru’s, so you’re the only person he’ll bother training with. However, he’s a complete asshole to train with.

When you’re losing, he gets all cocky and mouthy, talking about how weak and pathetic you are. When you’re putting up a good fight, Satoru somehow gets even more energetic. His cursed energy output increases exponentially, and he gets touchier too because he can’t cope with the euphoric feeling of actually having a challenge.

Principal Yaga was the unfortunate soul who had to tell Satoru that it was inappropriate to bear hug you for so long after a good sparring session. One time, you were trapped in his arms, completely unable to move for almost an hour as he rambled about how much he enjoyed getting that energy out. His face was also coincidentally(?) shoved in your chest. He, of course, claims it was nothing sexual, but you were completely pressed against him. You felt him grow hard against your thigh.

Either way, you always felt like you had a chip on your shoulder. You didn’t just want to he known as the one who could “almost counter Satoru”. You wanted to be known as the one who could beat the strongest sorcerer of today.

Unfortunately, you weren’t strong enough to beat him in combat yet, so you usually provoked him with words. All day, Geto has had to listen to you and Satoru bickering back and forth with each other.

“Well, at least my eyes aren’t off putting to look at.”

“My eyes are beautiful, princess. You’re just mad that you can’t get a date meanwhile I have girls falling all over me.” Satoru of course childishly stuck his tongue out at you.

“Bold of you to assume I can’t get a date.” You fire back with a small huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh? Does the princess have a date? Make sure to let me know how that goes.” Satoru laughs, and his hand ruffles your hair uncaringly.

“You can ask your dad tomorrow morning how it went.” You’re use to Satoru’s sass by now, and you know how to perfectly match his freak as some would say.

Satoru shoots you a small glare, which only elicits a giggle from you. You decide to push it further. “Yeah, I’m thinking about giving you a sibling. What do you think about that, hm? Maybe we’ll make another six-eyed freak with the limitless technique, so you aren’t that special.”

Satoru’s nose twitched in disdain. Not only did he not like the thought of not being special anymore; he despised the thought of you sleeping with his dad.

And that’s how you ended up thrown over his shoulder as he carried you towards the training matts. “Quite the mouth on you, princess. If only you could fight as good as you yap.” He smirked as he gave your ass a light spank. Once he realized the amount of control he had over you in that moment, it was game over for you.

“Let me go, Satoru!” You shrieked as Gojo continued to manhandle you over his shoulder. After a good twenty minutes of him holding you up, Suguru finally spoke out.

“You two are starting to sound like an old married couple. Put her down, Satoru.” Geto’s calming voice finally laid down the law to which Satoru reluctantly abided by, allowing for your feet to touch the floor.

You caught your breath as you were put down. It had been taxing to wrestle in his arms and scream for him to stop it. He knew you couldn’t activate your cursed technique while had full control over your body. Plus, if you were to activate your technique, you would’ve likely hurt Geto in the process. Satoru knew you wouldn’t even entertain the risk.

While Satoru was Suguru’s one and only friend, you were more like a little sister at Suguru’s side. He was the only one who didn’t view you as “Satoru’s counter”. To Suguru, you were just “y/n”. He saw you as an underclassman with an unprecedented level of potential.

He also often helped you with your studies. While Satoru was technically the brighter one of the two, Suguru was a true teacher. He explained even the most complicated topics to you, much to Satoru’s displeasure.

You didn’t miss the scowl on Satoru’s face each time you came up to both of them to request for Geto’s help. You didn’t miss the way he’d stare at both of you with a slight pout and how he’d try to tell you the answer before Geto could explain it.

You figured that it was just Satoru being spoiled. He didn’t like not being the center of attention when it came to you and Geto.

Satoru turned towards you, and he opened his mouth to continue on his little beratement of you when the door to the training area was abruptly opened. Principal Yaga stepped through the doors and called Gojo and Geto to his office.

The principal ended up sending the two young men out on a mission, and that was when everything changed between you three.

*** *** ***

Things between you three went dry for a while. You knew the details of what happened, but you didn’t dare talk directly to Satoru or Suguru about it.

Both of the men went their own separate directions, leaving you behind in the dust as if you were a child of divorce. Satoru took on an ungodly amount of training, barely ever at the dorms to do anything. Suguru occupied himself with a massive amount of missions.

Suguru was getting skinnier too. His long black hair was becoming thinner by the day, and he always looked so painfully tired. You felt like you would be a burden on him if you asked for any help from him.

Satoru was training so much, putting on more muscle in every place of his body. He didn’t ever invite you to spar with him anymore. He never taunted you in the hallways or even made direct eye contact with you.

They were both so preoccupied in their own grief that they seemingly forgot about you.

Things didn’t stop there either.

Haibara’s death shook Jujutsu Tech to its core. Nanami dropped out of the program. Suguru dropped out and was now a wanted criminal. Shoko wasn’t on the teaching path anymore, moving to learn more RCT to prevent something like this from happening again.

It was just you and Satoru on the teaching path. “Class” if you can even call it that - was so depressing that you barely bothered to show up for lectures anymore. Satoru was taking on every single mission, filling in for Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara’s absence. He wouldn’t even speak to you about Suguru or anything else for that matter.

Feeling so incredibly alone, you were curled up in your dorm late one night. Your face was sticky from tears, and your breath was so uneven. You just needed to talk to someone.

You didn’t think he’d answer, but Suguru sounded happy when he picked up the phone.

“Y/n, how are you?” His voice was like a double edged sword. It was so comforting to hear his voice, but you also remembered the lives he took.

You two spoke for over two hours. You vented out every single grief and complaint to him while he calmly tried to convince you that Jujutsu Tech was a waste of your time.

He was so good at buttering you up, making you feel like his way of thinking even made sense. You were so desperate for a friend; you couldn’t care less that you were essentially signing yourself up for a cult.

“Come to me, y/n. We could do great things together. It’d be like old times. I need you here with me.” A cult leader preying on someone when they’re at their lowest.

You agreed, hanging up the phone to start packing your bags. You couldn’t take living here anymore anyways, not after everything. Satoru probably wouldn’t even notice that you’re gone.

Quietly creeping down through the dorms, duffle bag in hand, you flinch when a sudden hand grips your shoulder from behind. You let out a sharp gasp followed by a small cry before you turn around quickly.

Satoru was standing behind you, no humor in his face at all. He was shirtless. His abs and muscular arms were on full display as he was only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and his hair was slightly damp from a shower.

“Where are you going?” He asked in a tone you’d never heard him use. He was being stern with you as if you were a child.

You shift uncomfortably underneath his gaze before you brush his hand off your shoulder. “I’m going to go stay with a friend.” You give him a half-lie, not able to tell him to his face that you were leaving.

“Pretty large duffle bag for going to stay with a friend, don’t you think?” His hand effortlessly takes the duffle bag off your shoulder, and he pulls it away from you before opening it, taking notes of the contents inside. “I don’t know why you bother lying to me. My six eyes know when you’re not telling the truth.”

You try to take the duffle bag back from him, but he dodges and bats away all of your attempts. “I wasn’t lying!” You shout, getting frustrated and impatient with him. “It’s not like you even care. Give me my shit back.”

Bright blue eyes look up at you, and his pupils dilate, the size of small pinholes. “I don’t care?” He asks before letting out a humorless laugh. It’s eerie seeing him like this, like a stick that just about to snap if anyone applied anymore pressure to him.

“You don’t. You don’t even talk to me anymore, even when I try talking to you! You and Geto completely blew me off.” Hot tears burn in your eyes as you’re forced to face how you feel right in front of him. “At least Geto wants to talk to me now.” You murmured quietly, shifting your gaze to the ground.

“You talked to Suguru?” Satoru asks, eyes wide and full of anger. His palm comes up and grips your hair pulling it back so you’ll look him in the eyes.

You let out a sharp hiss as his fingers are digging into your scalp. “Let go of me!” You shout, trying to free his hand from your hair.

Things finally start to click in Satoru’s head. You were leaving him, leaving him to go stay with Suguru. His stomach coiled in white hot rage and jealousy. Could you not see all he had done for you? Yet, you still choose Suguru, who had done nothing for you.

Your body feels weak and unstable as you’re suddenly teleported to the training mats in the gym. “Satoru, what?” You ask as you look around as best as you can. He finally frees your scalp.

“You want to go be with him?” He asks before throwing your duffle bag against the door. He then leans over and starts to stretch his legs. “You’ll have to beat me. Prove to me that you’re strong enough, and I’ll let you go. I won’t keep chasing you.”

"Satoru, you're talking crazy..." You reply as you glance over to your duffle bag that was slumped against the door. You had no want or intention of fighting Satoru. "I'm allowed to drop out if I want."

"So what? You just quit? You're just going to let me win like that? Bullshit, yn. I know you better than that." Satoru's eyes bore holes into the very depths of your soul. He does know you better than that — knows that you're not one to back down from a challenge.

Your jaw tightens as you watch him, anger coiling in your stomach. He can never just let you have what you want. Everything was a fight to him. He always gets what he wants because he's the fucking starboy of Jujutsu, and you're just "close enough" to his counter.

You rip your sweatshirt away from your body, tossing it off the matt. Your torso was clad in a thin tank top that you didn't necessarily plan on letting anyone see. You roll your neck. If he wanted to fight, you'd give him one last one.

"Atta girl." He whistles with a smug grin. His body is still in a fighting stance, waiting for you to take yours.

You don't even bother to respond to his praise. You know he's only acting like this to get under your skin more. "Make it count, Satoru. This will be the last time I ever fight you."

"Oh, I make it count each and every time."

It's not long before you two are completely at each other's throats. The amount of cursed energy emitting from the training area was absolutely devastating for the school. Building foundations literally shook. The lights flickered constantly, and a few even blew.

You two were lucky it was in the dead of night. If anyone was awake to witness this, they would've already put a stop to it, but most citizens must've chocked the movements up to small earthquakes in their sleepy haze.

Your body was tired and bruised, but you weren't going to give up. You wouldn't tap — no matter how many times Gojo put you in different submission positions. You always managed to break free and hit him with your elusive technique — something his infinity couldn't recognize.

He had grown so much stronger since your last sparing session. All of the training and missions had done him well. His chiseled body felt heavier against you. His grip was tighter. He was faster, stronger, and smarter.

Strangely enough, Satoru was mostly silent during this fight. He didn't taunt you or call you pathetic like he normally did. Besides his quiet grunts and growls from blows or primal rage, he was deadly silent.

This was serious to him. This wasn't like a fight with a meaningless curse. This wasn't like a cute little sparring session with you back in the day. This was you, and your role in his life. He would be damned before he let you fucking quit and leave him.

"Come here." His voice was deeper, rougher — predatory almost as he went in for another submission. His eyes were trained on you, and he had one objective in his mind: to keep you.

You slipped up, misjudging Satoru's distance from you. Before you could evade him, Satoru's large calloused palms gripped the underside of your thighs, and he lifted your body up with ease, shoving your back against the wall.

"You done?" He growled lowly against your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. His chest was rising and falling harshly. He was also bruised, but he'd fight you for the rest of eternity if it meant you wouldn't leave him.

Your breath was faster than his — literally panting as you took the moment of reprieve and rested against the wall. It had been so long since you too had sparred, you almost forgot how handsy he could be with you in the middle of fights.

His slender waist was between your thighs, still only covered by his grey sweat pants. His abs were glistening in sweat, and his hips created a perfect V dipping into his waistband. You instinctively had your legs wrapped around him — making him support your weight.

"I'm not going to let you win." Your voice is low and shaky from the fight. Your nerves were wound up after the night you had.

"Then, stay. Keep fighting me." His body pressed closer to yours. If anyone walked in on you two, it would definitely appear as if you two were doing things other than fighting.

"He needs me, Satoru..." You murmur, turning your head away from his. Suguru said it himself. He needed you. Satoru just wanted you to keep playing catch up with him.

Satoru's jaw clenched, and he pushed your back against the wall harder. He supported your weight with one of his hands and his waist as his other hand roughly grabbed your jaw. His fingers digging into the soft skin of your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

"If he needed you so fucking badly, why did he leave you here with me?"

You look at him with lost eyes as the reality of the situation finally starts to sink in. Your big brother, Suguru, had changed into someone you could hardly recognize. You tense — immediately trying to push those thoughts out of your head.

He can recognize that you're still trying to deny it. He jolts your body a bit, making your eyes snap open to look at him again.

"I need you, yn." His voice is raw. He's almost pleading with you. He sounds so convincing, but you can't help but doubt him.

"No, you don't..." You whisper as tears sting your eyes. Suguru didn't need you. He hadn't even bothered to call or text you. If he needed you so much, why didn't he reach out?

"Oh really?" Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. "So, I'm just fighting you at three in the morning for fun? I'm just fighting to keep you here with me for the thrill of it." His hand is unwavering on your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he speaks.

His eyes look so tired and drained. If you left, how would he have any moments rest. He's barely sleeping now as it is, and if you leave, he'll have to take on your missions on top of everything else.

But something tells you it's not even about that. This fight is the closest thing he's felt to human connection in months.

The rawness of his tone and emotion tugs at your heart strings, but it still feels like you’re giving up to him.

“Fighting at three in the morning sounds typical for you. You just don’t want to lose your favorite punching bag.” You spit back at him.

His hand — so pale and veiny — trails down from your jaw to your neck, and he squeezes just hard enough to make you feel all tingly inside. “Is that what you think? Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”

Your face warms from his crude words, and your hands squeeze his shoulders. His lips curl into a smirk as he witnesses your inner struggle, but he knows the truth. His six eyes know your tell: the way your thighs squeeze around him as if you’re trying to subdue your arousal.

He knows good and well that your pretty cunt is weeping for him, but he’s not going to give into yours or his own desires yet.

“I didn’t fight Nanami when he left.” His voice is back to a steady state, speaking the words carefully to ensure you understand what he’s trying to convey. “I even had the opportunity to fight Suguru to come back. I didn’t.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, making it feel like your stomach flipped upside down. You want to open your mouth to speak — to demand to know why he didn’t fight them to stay, but his hand was still firmly wrapped around your slender throat, holding you back from talking.

“How dense can you be, princess? It’s always been you. No one else.” A heady whisper against your ear. His hand subtly relaxes on your throat.

Then, you remember all the looks he gave you when you’d ask Suguru for help. You remember the times he would fight or outright just butt into your conversations, demanding to be the center of your attention.

“I knew you wouldn’t win, but even if you did, I lied. I’d still chase you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just let you slip past me.”

“Asshole.” You finally managed to speak, earning a dark chuckle from him.

Thwak!

His hand that had been supporting you slapped against your bottom. The familiar sting causing you to let out a breathy gasp.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you princess?” His hand unabashedly caresses your bottom, soothing the pain.

“I don't think you'd like me as much if I did." You respond gripping onto his shoulders as your body is under his control.

Thwak!

"Probably right about that." He murmurs before he leans into you. His pale blue eyes were half-lidded as he took you in. He's grown tired of denying himself. He's devoted his life to Jujutsu. Now, he just wants to finally do the things he wants to do, and you just so happen to be at the top of his list. "Are you going to play nice, or do I need to keep reminding you who's in control here?"

“I’m letting you have control.” You hiss. Probably not the wisest decision, since Gojo merely lets out a dark laugh. His hand tightens back around your throat, and your back hits the wall with a small thud.

“You’re going to eat your words, sweets.” He mumbles lowly, towering over you as he has full control over your body. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Do you even know what you do to me?”

His hardened length presses right against your core as if on cue, and he lets out a small groan from the contact. You bite back a noise that would let on your arousal because fuck… you’re wetter than you should be right now.

Too bad Satoru already knows the truth behind your flushed face and heaving chest. His six eyes really give him the advantage.

“I’m going to have fun with you, princess.” He quietly laughs as he drags his hips up and down, giving you the smallest bit of friction and pleasure. Both of you let out respective pants and noises — both of you were such a mess for each other.

Just when you were finally getting use to his rhythm, Satoru pulled back harshly, letting your feet touch the floor once more. Your legs subtly tremble as you stand on your own. You were still so exhausted from the fight, and now, you were feeling needy on top of it. It was like a perfect mixture for disaster.

You clench your jaw, not wanting to just give into him just because he said some really thoughtful words and looks so devilishly handsome. Sure, you were probably going to fuck him if he kept going, but you were not about to sit there and beg him to fuck you. There’s a perfectly good vibrator stashed in your duffle bag for this exact reason.

You start to walk towards the doors. Though, you weren’t planning on going to Suguru. You’d just… go stew in your dorm about how infuriating Gojo is, and then you’d get your frustrations out in a different manner.

“Oh no you don’t.” He says with a playful nature as he roughly grabs you right back up in his arms. “Gonna make me really work for it, aren’t you princess?” He carries you, despite your honestly pitiful attempts at getting away from him, and he bends you over one of the bleachers in the training area.

“Sato-“

“Shut up.” He lowly growled before grabbing something out of his pocket. His black blindfold crumpled in his hand before he reached over your back. One of his large hands grabbed your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and his other hand shoved his blindfold into your mouth.

“If you spit that out, I’m replacing it with my cock.” He warns lowly before letting out a small laugh at your panicked expression. Your face is so red from pure embarrassment of the situation. It doesn't help when Satoru's large gruff hands grab ahold of your shorts and yank them down to your ankles. Anyone could walk in here right now. Sure, it was late at night, but Yaga was notoriously a light sleeper.

Before you could even think about spitting out his blindfold and cussing him out, a harsh slap clapped against your bottom. Your teeth clamped down on the blindfold, masking a husky moan. Satoru definitely had a bit of an obsession with spanking you.

His eyes devoured you as your ass rippled. His hand gently rubbed your poor abused flesh before he spanked your other cheek. Your body jolted forward. A small muffled whine came from your lips, but Satoru knew you loved this.

You were practically dripping all over the bleachers for crying out loud. "Messy girl~" He taunted with a small laugh. "I think she's cryin' for it, sweets. She wants a spanking too."

You quickly start to shake your head, your body tensing at the thought. His fingertips gently smacked your drooling cunt, causing for an obscene wet noise to infiltrate your ears. You can't even stop the moan that's muffled from his blindfold. Your vision goes a bit blurry from tears of stimulation and slight pain, but fuck, it makes you clench around nothing. You were practically aching to be filled.

"Mmm~ you liked that didn't you, princess?" His hand rubs over your ass, groping you so shamelessly. "One day you might actually learn that I know your body better than you do..."

His finger trailed between your soaking wet folds, spreading your wetness around your clit, drawing out a shaky moan from you. Your legs started to lightly jitter, and it felt like your knees would give in any moment now.

"Poor, poor thing. You look like a newborn deer trying to learn how to walk." He taunted as his fingers circled around your entrance.

You were half tempted to spit the damn blindfold out, but you knew Satoru wouldn't hesitate to keep you gagging around his cock for hours if you kept being disobedient.

Another small slap to the button of nerves sent you forward. Your eyes fell shut as you savored the sensations tingling straight from your core. Your knees went inwards, and you had to support your body with your arms on the bleachers.

"That's it... Who's a good girl?" Satoru breathily purred from behind you. You were such a fucking beauty like this, finally caving in to your desires. You wanted this as much as he did. There was no point in denying it. His fingers went back to rubbing tight circles around your clit to soothe the little painful shocks.

You couldn't even formulate the words to tell him just where he could shove his dick. His ministrations felt like pure heaven, and your stomach tightened slightly. If he didn't slow down, you were sure god was going to come down and pluck you from the Earth.

Seeing the accumulation of energy with his six eyes, Satoru knew exactly what was going on. He smirked as he continued rubbing the swollen numb between his fingers. Your poor wet pussy making the wettest clacking noises he's ever heard. His mouth was practically watering for a taste.

Dropping to his knees behind you, Satoru wasted no time burying his face directly into your cunt. He immediately went to work, using his fat tongue to lap up all of your delicious juices. He gave you tender kisses of encouragement.

"See how you're treated when you're being good?" He taunted lowly right against your cunt. The vibration from his words had you clawing at the bleachers for mercy.

You whined and slightly thrashed, trying to fight the orgasm that was threatening to take over. It was too much- You couldn't cum all over Satoru's face right where you two had spent the most time at each other's throats!!

His tongue prodded at your entrance, and he moaned as he felt your wet velvet heat. You were made to house his cock in there -- he knew it. He'd always been god's favorite, so it made sense that god would bestow such a wonderful woman with the most delicious pussy to him.

His thumb rubbed tight circled around your clit as his tongue flicked in and out. It wasn't a minute later before you were basically gushing into his mouth. A muffled squeal left your throat, and you tried to claw away. Your cunt clenched and clenched, and Satoru nearly pitied your slutty pussy. It really just needed to be filled with dick. His dick.

His hands braced your thighs as he gave you a few more sweet kisses straight to your core before he stood up. He slid himself between you and the bleachers so he could hold you up. Your body collapsed against his chest, and you panted heavily. Not even your best vibrator and favorite smutty book could get that sort of orgasm out of you.

"Don't bite me." He warned with a ragged laugh before his fingers delved between your lips and pulled the blindfold out of your mouth. You didn't have the energy or resolve to even say anything to him. Instead, you opted to bury your face in his bare chest.

"My poor princess. Did I wear you out?" His voice was still teasing, even though he literally knew that he just made you see stars.

"Shut up, 'toru." You mutter into his chest, causing for his heart to swell. He loved that nickname, and he loved how you were like a cat pretending like you didn't like being pet by him.

His fingers pressed beneath your chin, and he pulled you up to look at him. Now, his dick was swelling from how precious your face since you were so fucked out already. Wordlessly, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage. Getting your pussy ate from the back by him was one thing, but now, he was being all sweet and kissing you?? You can remember all of his sweet words and how he looked when he said them. He was being genuine. He really had feelings for you this entire time.

You wanted to stomp your foot on his toe for taking so long to finally tell you, but his kiss was so sweet and intoxicating. You took a deep breath before intertwining your lips with his.

The sound of lips smacking together filled the training area. You felt the air shift around you. Your passion started to burn hot within the kiss. Both of you chased each others' lips like it was a goddamn need — not a want. Your head actually started to spin as he gripped your jaw and started to nip at your bottom lips with his teeth.

You pulled back - nervous as to why you didn't feel good. Your eyes widened as you took in the change of environment. You were in Satoru's dorm, sat upon his bed. His room was surprisingly clean and warmly lit by a Himalayan salt rock lamp right next to his bed.

"Sorry sweets, I felt like taking this somewhere more private." Satoru merely laughed as his body towered over yours. "I wanted to be able to take my time with you." His voice dropped down an octave, whispering into your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you watched him hook his thumbs into the waistband of his grey sweatpants. They did absolutely fuck all to hide how his dick was straining directly against the fabric. He had a huge tent right in his pants, and his cock had created a small dark stain right on his crotch area from leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.

Once his pants were down, your eyes marveled at just how pretty his cock looked in the warm glow of the lamp. His dick was long, and he had such pretty veins decorating the underside and side of his cock. His tip was flushed a pretty cherry red, and he had a pearl of pre-cum leaking from his slit.

"Aw you flatter me, sweets~" Satoru laughed as he petted the top of your head, affectionately ruffling your hair. You scowled up at him, only making him laugh more. There was nothing like seeing you all defiant and pissy with him... except for seeing you all fucked out and pliant under him.

"C'mon~ give it a kiss." He demanded as his long fingers tightened around your hair, guiding your plush lips straight to his dick. You would rather die than give into him like this. Your legs kicked out from you, kicking him straight in the shin.

He hissed quietly from the pain before giving you a dark grin. "You know, I wanted our first time to be sweet and passionate, but you make it real fucking hard to be nice to you, princess." He let go of your head before shoving you back onto the bed.

"Maybe because you make it real fucking hard to want to be nice to you." You retorted as your eyes narrowed. He settled between your legs with a small grunt. Even while you were arguing with him, your cunt was still soaked.

He was almost tempted to take the words out of your mouth by giving you more of his tongue, but his cock had been neglected long enough. "You didn't seem to have a problem after I gave you your best orgasm." He commented with a lopsided grin.

You stayed still against his bed swallowing harshly. Were you two really about to...? Just hours ago, it felt like you two were trying to kill each other. Hell, two days ago, it felt like he had forgotten you even existed.

"This doesn't make up for anything, Satoru." You warned as you kept your gaze hardened. Your body was to receptive to him to deny that you wanted... needed him, so you weren't even going to deny yourself the pleasure that he could give anymore. But this didn't make up for the fact that he had seemingly left you behind for months...

even if he only did that so you didn't have to bare the weight of his mistakes with the star plasma vessel..

even if he only worked himself to death so you could try to focus on your studies instead of being thrusted into being overworked with missions after Suguru and Nanami dropped out...

No, this didn't make up for any of that.

His touch softened as he cupped your cheek in his hand. His thumb stroked your smooth skin, gazing down at you like he was holding the world in his hands. It made you want to squirm and hide.

"So, this is meaningless for you?" He whispered quietly into your ear as his cock slipped between your sopping folds, grinding the underside of his length against you.

Your words got caught in your throat as you gasped for air. You felt your face immediately warm. Shit, you hated feeling this vulnerable... especially in front of your sworn rival.

"Am I only as useful as that cute little vibrator you stowed in your get-away back?" Satoru continued. His hips rocked back and forth, and you found yourself getting squirmy with each time his tip bumped against your entrance.

He was just too damn big to slip inside. It'd take work and lots of perseverance. Luckily, Satoru seemed to be surprisingly patient in that regard.

He groaned as he felt your slick coating his cock. Your body was fucking made for him: made to be his counter and made to take his cock.

You hid your face in his muscular shoulder, stifling a small whine. Damn his six eyes. That vibrator was a godsend some nights when you were stuck being alone.

"Answer me, princess." He drawled as one of his hands reached back to hold your head gently as if he were embracing you. His hips kept a steady rhythm, driving you mad.

"N-no..." You stuttered out, cursing your voice for betraying your arousal.

"Aw, sweets." He cooed in your ear, moving his hips with a bit more conviction now — testing the waters of pressing his giant cockhead against your entrance before going back to dry humping you.

You let out of noise of frustration, hating how easily it was for him to tease you like this. You knew it was going to hurt, but fuck, you were going to cry if you didn't get some relief soon.

"Shh, shh, I'm gonna give you what you need, sweets." He whispered into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to your cheekbone. "You gotta be a good girl for me though."

His arms cradled you as he peppered your neck in kisses. Your hips were rolling to meet his with each thrust. The slickest noises between you two filled the room as his long cock continued to rub against you.

"I'll b-be good, please." You finally choked out, giving up on arguing with him. You were too desperate now. There was no point in trying to hide it.

Satoru doesn't even attempt to hide his smug reaction to you being all submissive and needy underneath him. He drags his hips all the way back until he pushed himself forward — splitting you wiiide open for him.

"Fuck!" He groaned as your tight wet heat enveloped him, practically sucking you straight inside your sloppy pussy. One of his hands reached up and gripped the headboard for support. His back muscles flexed from the new positioning.

"Sh-shit-! Wait, T-toru... ah~! It's not g'nna fit!" You cried out, nails digging into his flesh as you tried to cope with the intrusion of his thick cock.

"Should've thought about that before you fucking begged for it, princess. Now, you're gonna shut the fuck up and take this dick like a good girl, yeah?" His voice was rough with need — no longer teasing. No, this was just primal domination now.

His cock continued to painstakingly shove it's way between your spongy walls, making room for himself right inside you until he was buried to the hilt. His hand had a vice grip against the headboard, and it took all of his mental fortitude to not bust immediately.

He made the mistake of looking down at you. Goddammit you're too pretty like this while taking his dick so well. Your lips were parted as just a small dribble of drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth. Your eyes were glassed over, and he could've swore he saw hearts in your pupils as you looked up at him.

All your attention was finally on him.

His hips set an unforgiving pace, fucking yours directly down into the mattress as he used his headboard as leverage. At least no one was in the dorms anymore besides you and him. There was no one to bother with how obscenely loud you were whining and moaning for him.

Though, Satoru would've still faced his peers with a shit eating grin the next morning if they still lived here. He was so damn proud to finally have you underneath him.

"T-toruToru~! Toru, oh fuck me~"

"At least that smart mouth of yours is good for something." He growled as his cock continued to rudely bully its way directly to your womb. Your legs were barely able to stay wrapped around him as he pounded his hips against yours.

His white hair stuck to his forehead as sweat started to build up for both of you. He usually hated the feeling, but nothing could tear him away from your sweet, sweet pussy right now.

He huffed as he shoved your legs up onto his shoulders, forcing you into the meanest mating press you could imagine. Your eyes rolled back as you practically kissed your last coherent thought goodbye.

Satoru fucking Gojo was going to had already fucked you stupid.

His cock was ruthless, pressing drabbles of precum directly against your cervix. His hips were practically drilling into you out of sheer muscle memory at this point. He just wanted to rut into until the day he died.

"Yeaaah~ look at you now, princess. Ngh.. can't talk back to me now, can ya? Did Toru fuck that.... mmm- poor little brain of yours stupid?" His hand let go from the headboard, gripping your cheeks with his pointer finger and thumb to make you look up at him. Your mouth parted for him as you gazed up at him.

He gathered a small bit of saliva in his mouth before he directly spit into yours, earning a wanton moan from your lips.

The bed continued to squeak and rattle from the repeated abuse. The headboard was now knocking against the wall without his hand to stop it.

"T-toru.." You cried, trying to warn him of how your tummy was tightening. It felt like every cell of your body was working for this orgasm. Your back arched as you felt yourself tighten around him.

He was already ten steps ahead of you, literally seeing your orgasm before it came. "Cum on my cock, princess. Go ahead. 's okay. I got you." He murmured into your ear right before he felt your gushy walls constricting around him, practically trying to milk his cock.

Goddamn, was it working.

A groan ripped through the air as his dick pulsed inside you. He had been holding on for all this time. He couldn't stop the groans and whimpers that fell from his lips as he finally let go and filled your cute cunt to the brim with his warm cum,

You two stayed still, catching your breaths, and neither of you dared to talk and ruin the moment. It was a silent agreement. Neither of you could fight the attraction between you two any longer.

"I missed you." You finally spoke up quietly. Satoru was vulnerable earlier after the fight. It was your turn now.

"I know." He responded quietly. He regretted taking so many missions and hiding from you. It was his way of trying to make the best out of a shitty situation, but all it did was make both of you unhappy. His nose nudged your cheek gently. "I missed you too."

His lips pressed soft kisses along your jaw. He would take more time later today to fully explain the breadth of his feelings for you, but for now, he was happy to pamper you in affections and aftercare until you fell asleep from overexertion.

Also... he would definitely have to make up some sort of story to tell Yaga and explain why your duffle bag was still in the training area... and why it had a pink vibrator inside.

FUCK FINALLY THE END.

[beroebluejeans]

I am constantly thinking about a review of Harrow the Ninth where the reviewer disliked a lot about the book but specifically complained how it wasn’t sci-fi-y enough for something set 10,000 years in the future. He complained it was unrealistic they were eating ginger biscuits and smoking cigarettes and I’m like … THAT’S INTENTIONAL! IT’S THEMATICALLY SIGNIFICANT!! TAMSYN MUIR IS MAKING A POINT ABOUT HOW CLINGING TO A GLORIFIED PAST WILL DESTROY YOU!!

John Gaius tells us (well, Harrow) in Nona the Ninth that he always hated change, but even in Harrow the Ninth it’s clear—he and his lyctors are stagnating and have been for millennia. They’re constantly talking about how great things used to be (sexy parties, Cassiopeia’s cooking, etc.). They have no hope for the future. John has a spaceship full of bodies in cryosleep—literally frozen in time and undying but also unable to grow or live. He is the Emperor Undying.

The theme becomes more explicit in Nona the Ninth: we see John (and arguably BOE) stuck on this 10,000-year-old grudge and unable to move past it. He thought he could keep Alecto in stasis in a tomb what, forever? He makes Gideon into a non-living preserved version of herself.

Meanwhile the characters who are living and growing are changing, even when it’s sometimes awful, because it’s how they keep doing what needs to be done. Palamedes and Camilla say before they become Paul that it wasn’t inevitable, but it is the best thing they can do now: they will make this imperfect irreversible change because that’s how they keep living and protecting the people they love. On the trip to the Ninth, Nona considers it might be better to just die, instead of continue this uncertain journey forward, but ultimately accepts irrevocable, painful change because NOODLE. And because “You can’t take loved away”: change doesn’t destroy the past or invalidate the good that existed there. Living requires change, but change doesn’t require forgetting.

Anyway, thank you to that reviewer who was so annoyed by the ginger biscuits in Harrow the Ninth that he illuminated a major theme in the series for me.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Fantasy Villain

Imagine you’ve been transported to a DnD-Fantasy-like world. Quests, adventurers, and mystical beasts are everything you could dream of. You’ve already established your little troupe; becoming an important cornerstone of the group. Whatever your class, you’re excelling at they really rely on which is why things go badly when you meet him—-the recurring villain of this world.

“Oh my–oh my Zoth.”

“What? Do I horrify the little hero!?”

“No, you’re–”

“Worse than you imagined?”

“No, you’re–”

“(Y/n) stop freezing up!”

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met!”

The group is horrified as they plan a tactical retreat, finding it easier to thwart the Fantasy Villain’s attacks which are suddenly less frequent.  The group just assumes you’ve been enchanted because since you’ve locked eyes with him you’ve been unable to stand on your feet. Wide-eyed and breathing heavy you just can’t stop the heat climbing over your face and ears as you replay the moment you met over and over. 

“You realize he’s a part of the ugliest most horrible race known to all of Azarothan.”

“If that’s ugly then I’m dead!”

“M-maybe he did enchant them?”

Meanwhile, the Villain’s returned to home base, shedding his armor and dismissing his entourage. Sat on his throne he replays the words you’ve said to him…over and over….and over again. His ears are turning a deep blue and he can’t help the involuntary reaction of the volcano attached to his castle bubbling with excitement.

“They-they think I’m beautiful?!”

He’s reeling with an overflow of energy and unknown vigor when he recalls your awestruck face as you fell to your knees clutching your enchanted tool. He can’t stop the thought of you in that same position but in a different setting. Cursing his lacking imagination he concocts his usual magic to spy on the troupe with his crystal ball but this time he’s focused solely on you. 

“Surely they’ll brag about the enchantment they left on me…..and maybe talk about their own infatuation again.”

It strokes a different kind of pride when he hears you deny being cursed. The feelings are mutual. He’s over the moon all four of them. You have to understand the Fantasy Villain has never been told something so flattering. 

“From another world….figures. This world could never make such…a perfect soul.”

Since their upbringing, they’ve been met with nothing but scorn and hatred. Vowing to rule and change the world that did that to him. If others did express interest it was because he had power or was literally about to kill them. Your reaction, your unadulterated feelings for him, the tug at his soul is the only sign he needs before his objective changes. 

“I wanted to rule the world so I could change the world for me. But now I’m going to change the world so I can rule with them.”

He means it. The troops are given new orders, the deadly nightmarish beasts are given new tasks, and he’s already concocting a million different plans to attain you. He watches the crystal ball relentlessly trying to hear and see as much as he can to learn more about you. He realizes very quickly that he really hates those adventurers of yours.

“C’mon (Y/n)! Just because you’re attracted to the enemy doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to destroy the world!”

“Yeah (Y/n), you’ve got to get your head in the game. We need you!”

“I–your right…sorry guys…I just don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who fits my preferences so perfectly.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“But one look in his galaxy-like eyes and it felt like I did.”

He really hates them. Listening to them talk you out of your feelings for him. Before you arrived they were minor pests. Simply a small roadblock that he would eventually crush to shatter the hopes of the people when they needed them most. Now they were just obstacles in the way of his goal–you.

“Sire those adventurers you told us to keep an eye on are on the move. Should I give the order to attack?”

“No…summon the siren I’d like to take a different approach.”

He gets incredibly crafty, despite only meeting you once he can tell you aren’t heartless like he. He’s certain should you find him to be responsible for the death of anyone you’ve met you’d reject his love. So he’ll make it his plan to slowly break your little troupe, such spunky and erratic individuals may be just the only tool he needs.

“My orders, My Ruler?”

“Join their group. Do what you like with whoever you wish. 

“?”

“Bring discord how you see fit.”

“Yes, My Ruler!”

His plan is perfect and the group isn’t nearly suspicious enough to reject his double agent. Who’s presence triggers the cracks that this group had always had. When the group splits apart needing to cool off you’re left alone, a perfect chance for a moment with you. 

“Hello, little hero.”

“Whoa, what are you doing here? My troupe’s not too far! A-a-a-nd I–I’m willing to fight this time!”

“That’s a shame because I came to speak to you.”

“Really! Ahem, I mean about what?”

“About those words, you said to me….I wonder did you know what they’ve ignited.”

Taking advantage of your easily lowered guard, he speaks the truth. Coming in close enough to feel the heat escaping from your armor, he’ll share the tale of his past. Which as he predicted makes you so sympathetic and just as willing to sing his praises as the moment you met. 

“But you’re not ugly or horrid like they all say.”

“No?”

“I think you’re beyond handsome. One of the most ethereal beings I’ve ever met.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“I know so… I’m just sorry no one else has told you that.”

“I’m happy it was you.”

When you let him dive in for a kiss, naturally you accept it. Returning his vigor in kind if not with sympathy or just your attraction, you miss how he places a magical mark on your neck. Or how he casually enchants your armor to protect you better. Or how he influences the flora and fauna of the forest to curve in the direction you came from essentially blocking the path back to your camp. When he reluctantly releases you he further promises he’s never letting you leave his grasp. Promising to one day have you on the throne beside him.

“I must return and so must you. Your friends will worry.”

“Oh…you’re right.”

“Don’t sound so sad, we’ll meet again.”

“Not just in my dreams.”

“Not just in your dreams.”

He leaves not only giddy with love but with a new plan in mind. He prepared to be faced with a struggle, to have to fight for your affection as the enemy you’d be fighting. But he wasn’t prepared for your heart to be swayed so easily. Licking your remnants on his lips, he knows that you can be deceived, and conveniently so can the rest of the world.

Fantasy Villain devises that if the history of his race’s banishment and exile were portrayed in a certain light. You could defect to his side without guilt and if some of the more stubborn adventurers were to also agree that’d make things so much easier. Pretending to be persuaded to sign some peace treaty after being gifted enough land to rule over with you beside him didn’t sound too bad.

Even if that didn’t work the Fantasy Villain has decided you will rule beside him whether he has to trick, drug, or force you to be his. Though he adores the honest love in your eyes when he looks at you and he’s going to do whatever he needs to have it. 

[paxtito]

secret door

pairings: jenna x fem!reader

word count: 4936

warnings: smut 18+, fingering, kissing- that’s about it

summary: you’re not famous so attending your first event (mexico beetlejuice, beetlejuice premiere) with jenna was nerve racking

a/n: so, so bad at summaries. this is for the anon who wanted more jenna content and the other anon who wanted smuttt— twas not originally gonna be smutty but — everything i touch turns to smut — #poetic

MASTERLIST

The hotel suite buzzes with activity. Jenna sits at the vanity, her makeup artist carefully blending a soft shimmer onto her eyelids. She’s wearing a silk robe, her deep teal leather dress hanging nearby, waiting to transform her into the star of the night.

Her stylist, Enrique, circles the room, picking at details, double-checking accessories, and adjusting the angle of her shoes laid out by the full-length mirror. Meanwhile, you’re standing by the suite’s other mirror as a tailor pins the last adjustments to your suit.

You glance at Jenna through the reflection, watching as she talks with her team, that familiar mix of excitement and focus lighting up her expression. She catches your gaze and smiles softly, the kind of smile that feels like it’s meant just for you, even with all these people around.

“How’s the suit looking?” Jenna asks, her voice cutting through the gentle hum of conversation.

You turn to face her, straightening your jacket. The tailor steps back, allowing you to move freely. “It’s coming together,” you reply, running a hand down the lapel. The suit is sharp—deep teal with subtle leather accents along the cuffs and collar, designed to complement Jenna’s dress without competing with it.

Enrique claps his hands dramatically. “It’s more than coming together,” he exclaims. “You look fantastic.”

Jenna tilts her head, her eyes scanning you from head to toe. “He’s right,” she says, her lips curving into a grin. “You look incredible.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck and try to brush it off with a playful smirk. “Not bad for a first-timer, huh?”

“Not bad at all,” Jenna replies, her voice warm.

Her makeup artist steps back, admiring her work. “Done! You’re all set, Jenna.”

Jenna stands, tying the belt of her robe before walking over to you. Up close, she’s even more breathtaking—her hair styled to perfection, her makeup subtle yet striking. She places a hand on your chest, right over your heart, and looks up at you.

“Are you ready for this?” she asks softly.

You exhale, the weight of the evening settling over you. You’re not famous, not used to the flashing cameras and crowded red carpets. But then Jenna’s fingers curl slightly into the fabric of your suit, grounding you.

“As long as I’m with you,” you say, meeting her gaze, “I’m ready for anything.”

Her smile widens, and she leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good. Because you’re going to blow them away.”

Enrique claps his hands again, pulling both of you back to the moment. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s get you dressed, Jenna! The car’s going to be here soon.”

Jenna winks at you before turning to Enrique. “Alright, alright, I’m coming!”

As she steps into her dress, you take a moment to compose yourself. Tonight isn’t just about her—it’s about the two of you, stepping into the spotlight together for the first time. And as nervous as you are, you can’t help but feel a swell of pride knowing you’ll be by her side.

A few minutes later, when Jenna emerges in her dress, the room falls quiet for a beat. She looks stunning, the deep teal leather hugging her figure perfectly, the details nodding subtly to the Beetlejuice theme.

“Wow,” you murmur, unable to stop the word from slipping out.

Jenna grins, brushing her fingers against your arm as she passes. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teases, though there’s a sparkle in her eyes that tells you she means it.

As the two of you head out, hand in hand, you can’t help but think that no matter how many cameras flash or how loud the crowd gets, the only thing that really matters is the way she looks at you—like you’re the only person in the world.

The car ride to the premiere is a blur of laughter and nervous energy. Jenna keeps brushing her fingers against your thigh, a small gesture that sends shivers up your spine. She tells you stories from the set of Beetlejuice, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she recounts the behind-the-scenes antics.

When the car pulls up to the red carpet, you feel your heart rate kick up a notch. This is it—the big moment. Jenna squeezes your hand, her skin warm against yours.

“Remember, breathe,” she says, her voice low and soothing. “And if it gets too overwhelming, just find me in the crowd. I’ll be looking for you.”

You nod, drawing strength from her calm presence. As the car door opens, the flashes of cameras and the shouts of fans hit you like a wave. Jenna steps out first, her dress swishing around her legs as she takes in the scene. She turns back to you, her hand extended.

“Come on,” she says, her smile wide and infectious. “Let’s do this.”

You take her hand, letting her pull you out of the car. The world seems to spin for a moment, a kaleidoscope of colors and noise. Jenna keeps hold of your hand as she leads you towards the mass of reporters and photographers.

She stops every few feet, posing for photos and answering questions with ease. You hover slightly behind her, trying not to be trampled by the flood of people. Every so often, Jenna glances back at you, her eyes checking in, making sure you’re still there.

When it’s your turn to pose together, she wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The cameras go wild, the flashes nearly blinding. Jenna leans in, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “You’re doing great.”

Her words settle something inside you, and you stand a little taller, a little prouder. As the night goes on, you find yourself relaxing into the role of being by her side. When Jenna introduces you to her co-stars and friends, she does so with a casual intimacy that makes you feel like you belong.

After what feels like hours, the red carpet portion of the evening finally winds down. Jenna leads you into the theater, her hand still clasped tightly in yours. The cool darkness of the space is a welcome reprieve from the hot glare of the lights outside.

As you take your seats, Jenna leans over, her breath warm against your ear. “Thanks for being here tonight,” she says softly. “It means a lot to me.”

You turn to face her, taking in the way the dim light plays across her features. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

The movie starts, and for the next two hours, you find yourself lost in the world of Beetlejuice. Jenna’s performance is captivating, her ability to blend comedy and depth leaving you awestruck. Every so often, you catch her glancing at you from the corner of her eye, a small smile playing on her lips.

When the credits roll, the audience erupts into applause. Jenna stands, pulling you up with her. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before pulling back to take in the standing ovation.

As the crowd begins to disperse, Jenna tugs at your hand. “Come on,” she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jenna leads you through the quiet door, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the theater. You find yourself in a small courtyard, the walls draped with lush greenery and the air heavy with the scent of jasmine.

She turns to face you, her eyes searching yours. “I needed a moment away from all that,” she says, gesturing vaguely back towards the main event. “Just the two of us.”

You nod, understanding all too well the pressure of being constantly in the public eye. “I get it,” you reply, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. “It’s nice to breathe.”

Jenna leans into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opens them again, there’s a new intensity in her gaze. “Yeah,” she says softly. “It’s nice to breathe with you.”

She takes a step closer, her body almost pressing against yours. Your heart races at the proximity, at the way her eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments.

Jenna's eyes meet yours, a silent question hanging in the air between you. You answer by leaning in, closing the distance until your lips are a mere breath apart. She exhales, her breath mingling with your own, and then you're kissing, soft and slow at first, then deeper, more urgent.

Her hands come up to cup your face, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer. You respond by wrapping your arms around her waist, molding her body against yours. The kiss goes on for a long moment, the rest of the world fading away until it's just the two of you, lost in each other.

Finally, Jenna pulls back, her chest heaving. She looks up at you, her eyes dark and half-lidded. "Wow," she breathes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That was..."

"Incredible," you finish for her, your voice rough. "You're incredible."

She ducks her head, a blush staining her cheeks. "I'm not the only one," she murmurs, her fingers toying with the lapel of your suit. "You look pretty amazing yourself."

You grin, pulling her back into your arms. "I guess we make a pretty good team, huh?"

"The best," she agrees, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. "Now, what do you say we explore this beautiful city? I hear the food here is to die for."

You grin at Jenna's suggestion, your eyes roaming over her figure appreciatively. "Food sounds amazing," you agree, "but first, I think we need to change out of these fancy clothes. I'm not sure I can eat a taco in a leather suit without looking ridiculous."

Jenna laughs, the sound bright and melodic in the quiet courtyard. "Good point," she says, smoothing down the front of her dress. "Though I have to say, you wear it well."

You wink at her, enjoying the way her cheeks flush at the compliment. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather be in something more comfortable. Plus, I don't want to risk getting any salsa on this thing. Enrique would have a heart attack."

"True," Jenna agrees, glancing down at her own outfit. "I'm not sure I can handle the stares if we waltz into a taqueria looking like this."

You take her hand, lacing your fingers with hers. "Then let's find somewhere to change. I'm sure there's a shop nearby where we can pick up something a little more casual."

"Ooh, shopping!" Jenna exclaims, her eyes lighting up. "Now you're speaking my language. Lead the way, miss fashionista."

You laugh, pulling her along as you exit the courtyard. The cool night air feels good on your skin, and you can't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of exploring the city with Jenna by your side.

As you walk, you keep up a steady stream of chatter, pointing out interesting shops and restaurants as you pass. Jenna listens attentively, asking questions and sharing her own thoughts. It's easy to forget, in moments like these, that she's a famous actress. Right now, she's just Jenna—your Jenna—and that's all that matters.

As you and Jenna walk down the street, you suddenly freeze, your eyes widening in horror. "Did you see that?" you gasp, your hand tightening around Jenna's.

She follows your gaze, her brow furrowing in confusion. "See what?"

You point a shaky finger at a dark shape scurrying along the sidewalk. "That! That rat!"

Jenna squints, then bursts out laughing. "Y/N, that's not a rat. It's just a sock."

You blink, realizing she's right. The "rat" is indeed just a stray piece of fabric, fluttering in the breeze. You feel your face flush with embarrassment.

"Oh," you say lamely, trying to regain your composure. "Right. A sock. Not a rat."

Jenna grins, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You're cute when you're scared," she teases, bumping her shoulder against yours.

You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks," you reply dryly. "I think."

As you continue walking, you can't help but marvel at the way Jenna makes you feel—safe, cherished, and loved, even when you're being silly. With her by your side, you feel like you can face anything, even the threat of a sock-turned-rat.

After your close call with the sock-rat, you and Jenna make your way to a nearby clothing store. The shop is small but cozy, with racks of colorful clothes and friendly staff. You head to the changing rooms, each grabbing a few items to try on.

Inside the dressing room, you peel off the leather suit, feeling a sense of relief as the tight material slides off your skin. You opt for a pair of simple black sweatpants and a gray hoodie, the soft fabric a welcome change from the structured lines of your suit.

As you emerge from the changing room, you spot Jenna across the store, her arms laden with clothes. She's wearing a pair of ripped jeans and an oversized pink hoodie, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looks adorable, and you can't help but grin at the sight of her.

You make your way over to her, your own arms full of potential purchases. "Find anything good?" you ask, setting your clothes down on a nearby bench.

Jenna nods, holding up a pair of red sneakers. "These are perfect," she says, her eyes bright with excitement. "They'll go great with the jeans."

You help her try on a few more outfits, offering your opinion on each one. She does the same for you, her eyes roaming appreciatively over your body as you model hoodies and sweatshirts.

Finally, with bags full of new clothes, you pay for your purchases and step out into the night. The air feels fresh and cool, and you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the rest of the evening.

As you walk hand in hand, you glance over at Jenna, a smile playing on your lips. "Ready to find some food?" you ask, your stomach grumbling at the thought.

Jenna grins back at you, her eyes sparkling in the streetlights. "Lead the way," she says, giving your hand a squeeze. "I'm ready for whatever you have in mind."

You and Jenna wander through the bustling streets of Mexico City, the night air filled with the tantalizing aromas of street food and the lively chatter of locals. After a bit of exploration, you stumble upon a cozy little taqueria tucked away in a side alley. The smell of sizzling meat and warm tortillas draws you in like a magnet.

"This looks perfect," Jenna says, her eyes lighting up as she takes in the colorful decor and the inviting atmosphere.

You nod in agreement, your mouth watering at the thought of authentic Mexican cuisine. "Definitely. Let's check it out."

As you enter the restaurant, the hostess greets you with a warm smile. She leads you to a small table in the corner, the candlelight casting a soft glow over the checkered tablecloth. You settle into your seats, the menus already making your stomach rumble.

"Everything looks so good," Jenna sighs, her finger tracing the options. "I don't know what to choose."

You grin, leaning back in your chair. "Well, we could always share a few dishes. That way we get to try more things."

Jenna's eyes light up. "Ooh, I like the way you think. How about we start with some guacamole and chips, then maybe some tacos al pastor and enchiladas?"

"Sounds perfect," you agree, flagging down the waiter to place your order.

As you wait for the food to arrive, you and Jenna chat about the movie premiere, the different outfits you tried on, and your plans for the rest of your time in Mexico City. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional brush of hands across the table.

After a long evening of exploring Mexico City and indulging in delicious food, you and Jenna arrive back at your hotel room, exhausted but happy. You can barely keep your eyes open as you stumble through the door, kicking off your shoes and collapsing onto the plush sofa.

Jenna flops down next to you, her head landing on your shoulder. "That was amazing," she mumbles, her words slightly slurred with fatigue. "But I think I might have eaten too many tacos."

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You and me both," you agree, rubbing your stomach. "I thought I was going to burst."

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. You both startle, your heads snapping up in surprise. The knock comes again, more insistent this time.

"Jenna? Y/N?" a voice calls from the other side. "Are you guys in there?"

You recognize the voice immediately—it's Enrique, Jenna's stylist. You exchange a glance with Jenna, your eyes wide with panic. You had completely forgotten that Enrique was expecting you back earlier.

"Uh, yeah, we're here!" you call out, your voice slightly strained. "Just give us a minute!"

You scramble off the couch, hastily straightening your clothes and running a hand through your hair. Jenna does the same, her movements slightly clumsy with exhaustion.

When you open the door, Enrique is standing there with a look of concern on his face. "Where have you two been?" he demands, his eyes narrowing. "You disappeared for hours! We were worried sick!"

You and Jenna exchange another glance, then burst into laughter, the events of the day catching up to you in a wave of hysteria.

"Sorry, sorry," Jenna gasps out between giggles, wiping tears from her eyes. "We got lost in the city and ended up on a taco crawl. We didn't mean to worry you!"

Enrique's stern expression softens, and he can't help but join in your laughter. "You two are impossible," he sighs, shaking his head.

As Enrique steps into the room, his eyes widen in surprise. "Wait a minute," he exclaims, his gaze flicking between you and Jenna. "What are you two wearing?"

You glance down at your outfit—a simple hoodie and sweatpants, a far cry from the designer leather suit Enrique had so painstakingly selected for you. Jenna looks similarly casual in her ripped jeans and oversized hoodie.

"Oh, uh, we went shopping," Jenna explains, a sheepish grin on her face. "We wanted something a little more comfortable for exploring the city."

Enrique's eyes narrow, his gaze sweeping over your casual attire with a critical eye. "Shopping?" he repeats, his tone a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "You two went shopping while you were supposed to be at the afterparty?"

You and Jenna exchange a guilty glance, suddenly feeling like naughty schoolchildren caught in the act. "Well," you begin, trying to find the right words, "we thought it would be nice to have something a little more practical for our time here in Mexico City. And we didn't want to get the fancy clothes dirty or ripped."

Enrique sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I understand the practicality, but you should have at least let me know. I was starting to think you two had run off and eloped or something."

Jenna lets out a snort of laughter, quickly covering her mouth to stifle the sound. "Eloped? In Mexico City? On the same day as the premiere?" She shakes her head, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "If we were going to do that, we would have at least planned it better."

Enrique rolls his eyes, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Very funny," he says dryly. "Just promise me you'll let me know next time you decide to go on a spontaneous shopping spree, okay?"

"We promise," you assure him, holding up your hands in a gesture of surrender. "No more disappearing acts without warning."

Enrique nods, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Alright then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some calls to make. I need to do damage control after your little stunt." He gives you both a mock glare before turning to leave.

As soon as he's gone, you and Jenna collapse onto the couch once again, dissolving into a fit of giggles. The exhaustion of the day catches up to you, and before you know it, you're fast asleep, your heads resting on each other's shoulders.

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the hotel room. You blink awake slowly, your eyes adjusting to the light. For a moment, you're disoriented, unsure of where you are. Then the memories of the previous night come flooding back—the premiere, the shopping trip, the delicious tacos.

You turn your head to the side, your gaze landing on Jenna. She's still fast asleep, her face relaxed and peaceful in the early morning light. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of her, and you can't help but smile.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, you shift closer, your bodies pressing together under the soft sheets. Jenna stirs slightly, her arm draping across your waist as she mumbles something unintelligible.

You let your fingers trace the curve of her cheek, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. In moments like these, it's hard to believe that she's a famous actress, that thousands of people adore her. To you, she's simply Jenna—your Jenna—the girl who makes your heart race and your soul sing.

As if sensing your thoughts, Jenna begins to stir. Her eyes flutter open, her gaze hazy with sleep. When she sees you watching her, a slow smile spreads across her face.

"Morning," she murmurs, her voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning," you reply softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Sleep well?"

Jenna stretches languidly, a soft yawn escaping her lips. "Like a baby," she says, her voice still groggy. "You?"

"Pretty good," you reply, your fingers still tracing lazy patterns on her cheek. "Though I might have gotten used to this view."

Jenna's cheeks flush a soft pink, and she ducks her head shyly. "Flatterer," she teases, but you can see the pleased smile tugging at her lips.

You lean in, your forehead resting against hers. "I'm not flattering," you murmur. "I'm just stating facts."

Jenna's eyes sparkle with mirth, and she closes the distance between you, pressing her lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss. You melt into it, your arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer.

The kiss deepens, growing more urgent as the morning haze lifts. Jenna's hands slip under your shirt, her touch sending shivers down your spine. You lose yourself in the sensation, in the feel of her body against yours, the taste of her lips.

After a long moment, you both pull back, breathless and smiling. Jenna's hair is mussed, her lips swollen, and you've never seen anything more beautiful.

"Wow," she breathes, her eyes dark with desire. "Good morning indeed."

You grin, your heart feeling full to bursting. "Breakfast?" you suggest, though your gaze lingers on her lips.

Jenna laughs, a sound of pure joy. "Food can wait," she says, pulling you back in for another kiss. "I'd rather savor this moment a little longer."

You lose yourself in Jenna's kiss, the rest of the world fading away until it's just the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms. Her lips are soft and insistent against yours, her tongue teasing the seam of your mouth until you part your lips to let her in.

A small moan escapes you as Jenna deepens the kiss, her hands sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your sleep shirts, the curves of her hips pressing into your own.

Dimly, you register the sound of a phone buzzing somewhere in the room, a reminder of the outside world waiting beyond the closed door. But you push it aside, too lost in Jenna's embrace to care.

After a long moment, you both surfaced for air, your chests heaving. Jenna's eyes are dark, her pupils blown wide with desire. "I want you," she whispers, her voice low and husky. "I want you so badly."

Your heart races at her words, at the raw need in her voice. "I want you too," you breathe, your hands sliding down to cup her face. "So much."

Jenna takes your hand in hers, guiding it slowly down her body. Her skin is warm and soft beneath your fingertips, and you can feel the rapid beating of her heart as you trail your hand lower, over the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist.

She lets out a soft gasp as your hand skims over the hem of her sleep shirt, dipping just beneath the fabric to brush against the smooth skin of her stomach. Her grip on your hand tightens, urging you higher, until your palm is cupping the weight of her breast.

You can feel her nipple hardening against your touch, the sensitive bud straining against the thin cotton of her shirt. Jenna arches into your hand, a soft moan escaping her lips as you knead her flesh.

"Please," she whimpers, her hips grinding against yours in a slow, deliberate motion. "Touch me, Y/N. Make me feel good."

Your own desire is a hot, pulsing need between your legs, but you force yourself to focus on Jenna, on bringing her pleasure. With a gentle tug, you pull her shirt up over her head, exposing the creamy expanse of her skin to your hungry gaze.

"You're so beautiful," you murmur, your hands skimming over the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. "I can't believe I get to touch you like this."

Jenna shivers under your touch, her skin pebbling with goosebumps as your hands explore every inch of her bare flesh. She reaches for you, tugging impatiently at the hem of your own sleep shirt, desperate to feel your skin against hers.

You comply eagerly, lifting your arms so she can pull the shirt over your head. As soon as it's gone, Jenna's hands are on you, tracing the contours of your chest, your stomach, your sides. She leans in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, down the center of your chest, until she reaches the valley between your breasts.

You gasp at the sensation, your head falling back as Jenna's lips and tongue work their magic on your sensitive skin. Her hands slide lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts to cup your ass, pulling you harder against her.

The ache between your legs is growing, your clit throbbing with need, but you focus on the feel of Jenna's body against yours, the way she makes you feel cherished and desired. You slide your hand between your bodies, palming Jenna's breast, thumbing over her nipple until it's hard and straining.

Jenna moans into your skin, her hips bucking against your hand. "I need you," she pants, her voice rough with want. "Please, Y/N. I need to feel you."

Your own need is a pulsing heat, your panties damp with arousal. With trembling fingers, you slip your hand into Jenna's shorts, groaning at the wet heat of her. She's soaked, her folds swollen and slick with desire.

"Fuck," you breathe, circling her clit with your thumb. "You're so wet for me."

You slide your fingers through Jenna's slick folds, teasing her entrance with the tips of your fingers. She's so wet, so ready for you, and the knowledge sends a thrill of desire straight to your core.

Slowly, carefully, you push one finger inside her, groaning at the tight heat of her walls. Jenna bites her lip, her hips rolling in a slow grind against your hand as you work her open. Her inner muscles flutter around your digit, drawing you deeper.

"More," she whispers, her eyes dark and pleading. "Please, Y/N. I need more."

You add a second finger, curling them just so, brushing against that spot deep inside that makes her see stars. Jenna's breath hitches, a small moan escaping her lips as you stroke her most sensitive places.

You kiss her deeply, swallowing her whimpers as you finger her faster, harder, pushing her towards the edge. Her hips move in time with your hand, her thighs trembling with the force of her arousal.

"That's it," you murmur against her lips. "Let go for me, Jenna. Come for me."

Jenna shudders, her walls clenching around your fingers as she comes with a soft cry. Her orgasm washes over her in waves, her body shuddering and twitching as she rides out the pleasure.

You hold her close, your fingers gentling their movements as she comes down, pressing soft kisses to her neck and collarbone. When she finally stills, you withdraw your hand, bringing your fingers to your mouth to taste her essence.

Jenna watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted and her chest heaving. "That was... incredible," she breathes, reaching out to tangle her fingers in your hair. "But I'm not done with you yet."

With a wicked grin, she pushes you onto your back, settling between your thighs. "Your turn," she purrs, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. "And I plan to take my time."

—

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Cosmo Tips 🦇

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: On Halloween, Eddie finds Cosmo's "Top Ten Kisses to Spice Up Your Love Life."

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warnings: So much kissing, suggestiveness, Eddie is so in love with you

A/n: I'm glad I'm back for another Eddie Halloween fic 🎃 He's so goofy, I had to write this idea. And of course, include spider-man 🕷️🕸️

“Eddie?” you muttered out of the side of your mouth, your lips still occupied with kissing his. You watched his eyebrow raise in question, which — in any other situation — you shouldn’t have been able to see while kissing. 

“I don’t think,” you began in between another kiss, looking at the soft brown of his eyes, “this one’s quite working.”

Eddie pulled away with a sigh, pushing his hair out of his face. He reached for the open magazine sitting on the couch next to you both. You just gave him a soft smile, a closed one, while rubbing your hand along his bicep.

“It says right. here.” he told you with a sigh, pointing his finger on the magazine article, “that kissing with your eyes open is supposed to, uh… ‘burn a fiery desire in your belly.’ Are you feeling a fiery desire?”

Your mouth flattened into a straight line, your head tilted to the side. “Maybe a sooty ember? It sorta felt like we were having a staring contest.” You leaned into him, resting along the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, and I was winning it,” he said, making a snort leave your throat. You felt the muscles of his face curve into a brief smile as he grabbed the magazine.

“You know, I’m not sure we should be taking romantic advice from Cosmo, Eds.” You muttered the words against the collar of his shirt, and after the other failed attempts, it certainly wasn’t the first time you’d said it. 

Eddie had taken the Cosmopolitan magazine from the doctor’s office and excitedly told you about all the gossip and sex tips in it. And of course, he needed a volunteer to really see how well these tips worked.

The first one, which had you on the kitchen counter with Eddie standing between your legs, had bruised your ego a bit — the unsexy attempts to jump onto the annoyingly high counters and the crumbs sticking to your thighs had not inspired any fiery desires. And the second one extinguished it all together, where you both held ice cubes in your mouths so your lips and tongues would be cold while kissing. Except your teeth were way too sensitive for the ice, and Eddie had nearly choked on his ice cube.

And kissing with your eyes open hadn’t reignited anything. You let out a sigh. “They make these things look a lot sexier in movies. And easier.”

Eddie continued reading down the list. As your hand moved to his leg, you began running your palm along his thigh. The soft material of his sweatpants were warm from his body heat. Maybe you could salvage the moment…

“Okay, babe, one last one. I think we could make it work,” he told you, pulling out of your grasp and standing up.

Or not. 

Slowly, you stood up after him, folding your arms over your chest. You watched him read the tip a second and then a third time. You found yourself unable to hold a laugh back. “And I think that you owe me big after all this.”

Eddie faced you, grabbing your wrists and uncrossing your arms. He placed them over his shoulders before his hands went to your waist. The weight of him felt heavy against you, the warmth from him almost intoxicating. He walked you backward, one careful step at a time. His mouth hovered right in front of yours. 

You arched into him, finally finding relief rather than following that stupid list. Silently, you begged him to just close the gap. The tip of his nose brushed along yours. You were seconds away from just kissing him yourself when your back collided with something hard, your head hitting it a moment later.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie said, panicked and eyes wide.

Meanwhile, a long groan fell from your mouth. Your hand reached back to hold your head, feeling a dull throbbing radiate along your skull. Eddie pulled you into his arms, walking the two of you back to the couch. You realized that you’d been leaning against the wall of your apartment.

“Are you okay? Do you need any ice?” he asked, pulling away. He gently pushed against your hand, silently asking whether he can take a look at the back of your head.

You let him. “I’m fine, just a little dazed,” you laughed out, wincing slightly when his fingers brushed along the spot where a bruise was likely to form.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he continued looking.

“Was this another one of Cosmo’s greatest sex tips? Cause I don’t think head injuries are the smoothest way to get someone all hot and bothered.”

Eddie finished checking you over and pulled you back into his embrace. “I’m throwing away that stupid magazine. Maybe I’ll burn it. Or rip it to shreds.”

“You could rip it up and then burn it,” you offered.

“God, you’re a genius, baby.”

You answered with a distracted hum. The rise and fall of Eddie’s chest against yours made the ache in your skull a little less painful. “Maybe Cosmo’s tips are spicing up our sex life a bit too much.”

“Maybe,” he said, trailing his hand up to cup your jaw, “Comso’s tips are actually too bullshit for our sex life.” Drawing you back to look him in your eyes, he traced his thumb along your cheek before pressing his lips to yours. You leaned into their softness and warmth, letting your mind turn blank.

Until your landline began to ring. Eddie pulled away, grimacing at the interruption. “You alright if I go get it?” Eddie asked you, dragging his gaze across your face.

You nodded your head. “Only if I don’t have to fight any more walls tonight.”

“Deal.” His lips pressed a kiss to your nose, rising from the couch and pressing another to your forehead. 

Resting back against the couch, you listened to him answer and talk to whoever was on the other side. Though it didn’t take long to figure out who it was.

“Christ, Harrington. That’s what you interrupted my makeout sesh for?” he asked into the receiver.

Your eyes widened, your body shooting forward as you sent a shocked look across the room. With gritted teeth, you admonished him. “Eddie!” You mouthed at him to stop as his cheshire grin widened.

“Oh, so now I can’t talk about my beautiful, amazing, hot, intelligent, sexy girlfriend anymore?” He put his hand on his hip, shaking his head. “Where’s the humanity in that? Steve, put this poor man out of his misery.”

His eyebrows slightly furrowed as he listened to Steve, the tip of his tongue sticking out in focus. “Okay, so I can talk about her? Great,” he said, settling in as he leaned against the wall. “Let me start with her ethereal soul capable of all things good in this world followed by the way no man deserves to even perceive her divine body. Then let’s go with her rockin’ pair of-”

“Eddie!” you said again, cutting him off before he could talk about that. And you weren’t the only one, hearing the loud interruption from Steve on the other side of the phone.

“Eyes! Her rockin’ pair of eyes. Get your mind out of the gutter,” Eddie finished, mock disappointment in his voice. 

You couldn’t help but roll your “rockin’ pair of eyes” at him as that smirk covered his face again. You watched as he sighed and said, “Yeah, yeah. Got it, Mama Harrington.”

After hanging up, Eddie made his way back, flopping his body onto yours. His arms wrapped tight around you as he shoved his face in the crook of your neck. He snuggled closer, and the hum from his throat vibrated along your chest.

“So are you going to tell me what Steve said?” you asked, rubbing a hand down his back.

“Oh!” Eddie said, as if he’d already forgotten. “He said to be at his place by eight sharp since we’re bringing the snacks.”

You hummed, slowly nodding. “Like the snacks you bought for this Halloween party and then promptly finished by the following morning?”

“Those would be the ones…”

“So,” you began, narrowing your eyes at him as he avoided the point, “we need to get ready now so we can swing by the grocery store and make it on time then, right?”

The groan Eddie let out rumbled from deep in his chest. But you simply raised your hand and smacked it down right on his ass. “Come on. Go face the consequences of your actions.”

Slowly, he raised himself from you, his expression sinking into a grimace from a few inches away. “You were a lot cuter when we were making out.”

Despite his protests, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pushing himself up and making his way to the bedroom. A stupidly happy grin covered your face as you got ready as well. It sat there as you pulled your outfit on and as you adjusted the red wig on your head.

In the bathroom mirror, you saw the door creak open to reveal flashes of red and blue and black. Slowly, you turned, eyeing him up and down. “Well hey there, Spidey.”

Clad in a Spider-Man costume, customized by the man himself, Eddie walked over to you. With his hands on your hips, he said, “Hey there, Mary Jane.”

Your fingers crawled up to his neck, your thumb tracing back and forth across his cheek. You leaned in and kissed him through the mask. But as you opened your mouth to tell him that it was time to go, his fingers grasped the edge of the mask.

Eddie had barely pulled it off before bringing you in close and kissing you again. His breath came heavy against your cheek, his fingers pressing into your skin. As much as it pained you, your hands came to push gently at his chest.

“Easy there, tiger,” you breathed out with a grin. You reluctantly slipped out of his grasp, grabbing his hand to pull him toward the front door. 

“Easy there?” he asked in disbelief from behind. “There’s nothing easy about how you look right now. In fact, if you ask me, things back here are getting pretty hard.”

You shot a glare back his way as the two of you walked to the van. “Hard like the wall you shoved my head into?” you jokingly asked, thinking again that there wouldn’t be any hard problem had you two not taken kissing tips from Cosmo.

Eddie reached his other hand to caress the back of your head. “Babe, I will spend the rest of my days redeeming myself. You know I’d fight that wall for you.”

You giggled, squeezing his hand before climbing into the van. “Or you could just get us to the store and Steve’s place on time,” you offered with a sweet smile, buckling your seatbelt. “Oh, and love me forever. There’s that part too.”

He beamed at you, his grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Now that I can do,” he said. 

He held your gaze as his fingers reached for the radio dial, cranking the Black Sabbath song playing even louder. You merely leaned back against your seat, watching him shake his head and drum his fingers on the steering wheel while he drove. 

And after you had a bag full of every kind of junk food to exist, the two of you walked up to Steve’s apartment. You continued to adjust your shirt, your jeans, your wig all the way to his door until Eddie grabbed your wrist with a gentle hand.

Even from behind the mask he’d just put back on, you knew the lovesick expression he wore. The one that told you everything you needed to hear.

You only looked away when the door swung open, revealing Steve in a pilot’s jacket and aviator sunglasses. 

“Looking fly there, Mav,” you told him, offering the bag of snacks to him. Meanwhile, Eddie posed beside you with his hands out as if he were shooting webs at Steve.

Nodding his head at your words, Steve replied, “You two nerds don’t look too bad yourselves,” before inviting you both in. His place, except for the counter where he began setting up the food, was covered in decorations — everything from spider webs to orange and purple lights to rows of pumpkins. You recognized the jack-o-lantern designs from last weekend, when all of you spent the day carving and throwing pumpkin seeds at one another. 

Eddie’s intricate design of the Hellfire Club logo sat next to your carving of a cat wearing a witch’s hat, which sat next to Steve’s unfortunate attempt at a skeleton’s face — but the teeth had fallen off, leaving the skull looking a bit gummy even without any gums. 

And as you heard Nancy and Robin’s voices from the next room over, you could take a good guess as to who helped him decorate (and forced him to display his failed jack-o-lantern). And as if on cue, Nancy came out in a similar looking leather flight jacket and aviator glasses — Charlie from Top Gun you guessed. But what threw you into a fit of giggles was Robin coming out in a full flight suit, her hair piled on top of head to look short, and a fake blonde mustache. 

From behind you, Eddie said, “Are you a porn star playing a pilot?”

“She’s Goose,” you loudly whispered to him.

Robin crossed her arms over her chest. “Top Gun was the only idea Steve wasn’t a total wuss about for our group costume.”

“Yeah, well you wanted to go as Pumpkinhead, Robin,” Steve shot back while Robin adjusted her fake mustache.

Not long after, you could hear the gaggle of kids outside the door — along with a heavy sigh from Johnathan as you swung the door open to reveal him standing surrounded by the kids. Their costumes looked familiar, especially Dustin’s Hawaiian shirt, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

In an instant, the kids pushed past you, talking over one another about candy already. Meanwhile, you cocked your head at Johnathan still standing there — in a gray tank top with the sleeves cut off and red bandana.

“The Goonies,” Johnathan muttered, his voice clearly tired from wrangling the kids. 

You made a quiet “ah” noise, raising your eyebrows. You give him a kind smile, letting him in and pointing him toward the drinks. 

As you helped Steve finish putting everything together, endless laughter filled in the gaps of silence. You watched the smiles etched onto every person’s face and couldn’t help grinning in return. “Monster Mash” played in the background, Robin was ranting about the themes of different “final girls,” the kids were throwing M&Ms into each other's mouths across the room, and you were grabbing a handful of candy to keep you going for the night.

And the party continued like that — blurring between catching up and laughing so hard your stomach began to ache. Or maybe that was from the obscene amount of candy you ended up eating. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not as the smell of popcorn filled the air and the TV lit up.

The group had settled on — unsurprisingly — Ghostbusters once again. The theme song started while everyone gathered on and around the couch, which included Mike and Lucas fighting over one of the many available blankets. 

But you walked over to Steve pouring the popcorn into large bowls and whispered, “Hey, do you mind if I hang out in your room for a minute?”

He turned to you, his eyebrows furrowing for a second. “Course. You okay?”

Waving him off, you said, “Yeah, just need a little break from all the commotion.”

A quiet huff left his mouth as he shook his head. “Don’t blame you. Not with–” his head whipped to the side. “Dustin, put that down!”

You just grabbed a handful of popcorn before backing away slowly. You giggled as you crept away to Steve’s room down the hall. Keeping the door ajar, you let out a long sigh. You pushed the wig hair out of your face and sunk down to the floor, your back resting against the frame of his bed. You leaned your head back and listened to the muffled sounds of the party.

Quietly snacking on the popcorn, you sat there enjoying the time alone. And just as your jaw was beginning to unclench, you heard the door creak open. You cracked an eye open, bracing yourself for more commotion, but peaked over to find Spider-man walking over to you. 

“You left,” Eddie said, quite astutely, the words nearly coming out as a whine. You closed your eyes again as he climbed onto Steve’s bed behind you.

“You’re a little needy, you know that?” you muttered with a grin, no bite behind your words. He settled on his back beside you, his head barely hanging off the edge.

He bumped his temple against yours. “But you love me.”

Your smile widened, soft and sincere. “Yeah,” you breathed out. Humming softly, you leaned further into him. Loose curls of his tickled your cheek as you tilted your head his way.

The weight on the mattress shifted again. When you opened your eyes, you were face to face with an upside down Eddie, who had scooted his head farther off the mattress. It almost felt like the air around you both had shifted, electrified.

Your gaze flitted between his warm eyes and soft lips, his breath ghosting across your skin. His hand moved to rest along your cheek, the tips of his gloved fingers holding your neck. 

He still made your stomach flip when he looked at you like this. Like nothing else existed in his eyes but you. 

All you could do was whisper, “Hi.”

A slight smile crossed his face. “Hi,” he whispered back. And thankfully, he pressed his lips to yours so you didn’t have to search your clouded brain for words.

His touch left a trail of heat in its wake, from his mouth to his nose nudging yours to his palm cradling your jaw. The feeling of kissing him upside down was different, but with each push and pull of him against you, the more you melted into it. 

Your hand curled into his hair, your grip growing tighter as your breathing grew heavier. His tongue slipped past your lips. You felt the quick beating of his pulse against your skin, and every inch of your body sparked alive.

A near whine fell from you when Eddie pulled away, but it quickly turned into a soft sigh when you felt him move down. From this angle, he easily kissed along your neck. You tilted your head back to give him more access.

“Eddie…” you whispered out, and you swore you felt a grin against your skin. When you couldn’t take anymore and you began pulling him toward you off the bed, a loud chorus of laughter erupted from the living room — making you jump and reminding you that the outside world existed.

Eddie nearly landed on you, a quiet groan leaving his mouth as he hit the ground. Quick breaths still fell from your mouth, your tongue licking your lips in his absence. 

With a slight scowl, Eddie rubbed his back. But it quickly disappeared when you replaced your hand with his and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“So…” Eddie said with that distracting smile of his, “did that ‘burn a fiery desire in your belly’?”

You nudged him with your arm, playfully rolling your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That wasn’t a no, sweetheart,” he pointed out, his voice deeper than usual. And he wasn’t wrong, you thought, while your body still calmed itself — which was never an easy task with him so close.

You kissed him again, slowly this time, to savor the feel of him. The hungry look he gave you as you pulled away said that he was going to stoke that fire until it burned you alive. And you were happy to let him, but Dustin’s voice called from the living room, telling you two to come back or you’d miss the best part. 

Hand-in-hand, you two made your way back, sitting on the floor with your back surrounded by your friends. The movie and company were good, but you found yourself happily watching Eddie the entire night instead.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

beautiful mess | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick knows exactly how to comfort you in a moment of insecurity.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, menstruation, fluff, boyfriend!finnick being a cutie patootie, angst, mild hurt/comfort, insecurity, a little overdramatic but it’s cute idc

notes: about to get my period so this is kind of self-indulgent lmao. the number of times I rewrote this is insane. i hope i didn’t disappoint <3

“You know, I think I could pull off one of those long wizard beards,” Finnick said, admiring himself in the bathroom mirror as he shaved down the slight stubble on his jaw. “Those ones that go down to your chest? I could decorate it with little seashells and twine. It’d look hot, don’t you think?”

His playful words didn’t register in your mind.

Frustrated tears threatened to spill as the hairbrush in your hand tugged harshly at the roots of your hair. Nausea was bubbling in your stomach as you stared at your reflection, feeling as though not a single human being in history had ever looked as ugly as you did right now.

“Sweetheart?”

Here you were standing next to a Greek god, meanwhile, your skin was all hot and blotchy, your hair was a tangled mess, and your stomach was aching something awful. Christ, you hated being on your period.

A hard lump was lodged in your throat; you tried to swallow it, but there was no use. Warm tears had already begun to stream down your cheeks. Unable to bear the sight of yourself any longer, you turned away from the mirror. As you reached for the bathroom door handle, a sharp unexpected cramp pierced at your insides, causing your legs to buckle and collapse to the cold tiled floor.

That was the last straw. You just couldn’t hold it in anymore. A disharmony of cries burst from your lips, reverberating around the small room as your shuddering body folded over itself. Curse the Fates for having you been born a girl.

Finnick, now switched to panic mode, quickly dropped to his knees before you, eyes wide and alert.

“Hey, hey!” he said soothingly as his hand moved to rub your back in support, though he wasn’t even sure what he was supporting.

A thousand-and-one distressing thoughts flew through his mind. Had someone died? Were you injured? Were you dying? Obviously, these ideas were a little irrational considering you were just standing next to him a second ago. But seeing the love of his life in pain and not knowing why made him fear the absolute worst.

“Baby, what happened? What’s wrong?”

All you could do was sob in response. You felt pathetic. Stupid, ugly, and pathetic. “How can you—” Another sob left your lips— “stand to look at me?!”

You could feel his hand stop moving which, illogically, made you even more upset.

“What?” he asked quietly. “What do you mean ‘stand to look at you’? Please, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

Finally, you forced yourself to sit up, revealing the tears that streaked your distraught expression. Finnick’s brows scrunched together, almost like he was in pain watching you in such a state of disarray. He tried to think of anything he might’ve done to make you feel this way because, of course, the first thing Finnick Odair would do was blame himself. But nothing came to mind.

Your heavy heart sank—he looked so worried. A part of your brain knew you were overreacting. Justa little bit. It made you feel even more terrible, knowing he was panicked simply because you didn’t like how you looked. Nevertheless….

“I look so ugly!” you cried. “My hair is all knotted, my face is all red and gross, my stomach is cramping, and—and… I’m just a mess!” You buried your face in your hands. “Why are you even with me?”

Shock was an understatement compared to what Finnick felt when those words left your mouth. Never in a million years would he believe someone like you—someone who looked like you—could ever possibly be insecure about their appearance, and now, of all times.

He gently reached out and removed the hands that shielded your face. You attempted to turn away to conceal yourself in shame, in fear that if he got too close, he would discover your flaws and see you the way you saw yourself. But he caught your chin with a single finger and compelled you to meet his gaze.

Yes, your skin was a little red and your eyes were a little bloodshot, but that didn’t mean you looked ugly. In fact, your rosy cheeks glowed with such radiance that the teardrops falling from your crystalline eyes looked like shimmering diamonds. Your lips, which were slightly quivering, were reddened and plump—an alluring contrast to the hue of your skin.

Not that he would say it given the insensitivity and selfishness of admitting such a thought, but he believed you cried quite beautifully.

“Because I don’t think you’re a mess,” Finnick said softly, ironically tucking multiple disordered strands of hair behind your ear. “You’re human, and you don’t need to look or feel perfect all the time. That’s why you’ve got me—I’ll always think the most of you. And when you’re feeling this way, I’ll always remind you so too.”

You tried to allow his compassionate words to seep into your brain, tried to turn his beliefs into your own. However, the storm of emotions inside your mind was refusing to dissipate. The insecurities just wouldn’t subside and Finnick could see it in your glossy eyes.

“Listen to me,” he said, his thumb brushing away a tear that fell across your skin. “Waking up and seeing your gorgeous face next to mine? That’s what gives me the strength to get up every morning. Those imperfections you’re so adamant about? They only make me love you so much more.

I love every part of you. Every so-called flaw, every tangled strand of hair on that pretty little head of yours.” He grinned as he consolingly ran his fingers through your hair which, in his opinion, was perfectly soft and smooth. “You’re my girl and nothing will ever make me want it any other way.”

Hearing his declaration had your heart aching in your chest. Your hand curled around his arm, needing some physical anchor to the reassuring words he spoke. There was nothing but sincerity in his voice, a sure-fire sign that he was telling the truth.

You realised you never had to worry about Finnick finding you unattractive. Though you were a little worried he was partially blind which, unfortunately, represented your own seemingly unshakeable insecurities.

“I wish I could see myself the way you do,” you whispered, voice hoarse from crying.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know, but just give it time. One day you’ll look back and wonder what the hell you were thinking. I mean, you? Ugly? Sweetheart, we might need to get you some glasses.”

You sniffled, lips stretching into a wobbly smile. “You’re an idiot.”

He lifted your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Only for you,” he quipped in response, wearing a light-hearted smirk on his lips. “Come here.”

He opened his arms, beckoning you to seek solace in his embrace. You scooted closer, sinking into his broad chest as his arms enveloped you. Your legs were folded awkwardly beneath your body and Finnick’s back ached from the lack of support behind him, but neither of you seemed to mind.

What is love without a little suffering?

His hand stroked the length of your hair, curling random strands between his fingers in admiration. Your fingertips danced across his tanned skin, amorously tracing the words ‘I love you’ over and over. You weren’t sure if he even noticed; it didn’t really matter. The sentiment remained true.

You listened to his heart beating centimetres from your ear. Thump. Thump. Thump. And you were grateful it beat for you. You were so, so grateful for Finnick. For his strong arms that soothed you in their embrace. For his lips that released a swarm of butterflies in your stomach with just a quirk of their corners. For his voice that could lift you from the deepest, darkest pit at any given moment.

So, when you whispered, “Thank you,” it was much more than a show of appreciation for his words of reassurance. It was gratitude for his existence. His entire being. For his love which echoed your own.

“Always,” he whispered in return.

Time began to pass but you remained in the same position—holding each other closely, dearly. And then as more minutes passed, rationality began to set in. You were thinking about apologising for your dramatics, but Finnick had other ideas.

“Wait, did you say your stomach’s cramping?” he asked suddenly. You simply nodded. “Are you on your period?”

Your head turned to bury your face against his chest in embarrassment. “Yes,” your voice muffled into his shirt.

Finnick grinned to himself. He didn’t want to play the stereotype card but knowing that detail helped him understand your actions a little better now.

“Well,” he began, gently coaxing you away from his chest so he could look into your eyes. “How about you come sit with me in the kitchen, hm?” He caressed the line of your cheekbone as he spoke. “I’ll cook you some pancakes and then we can both melt into the couch all day. Does that sound good?”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Chocolate chip pancakes?”

He made some noise between a chuckle and a scoff. “Of course. Anything else would be a culinary tragedy.”

“Oh, Finnick Odair,” you proclaimed theatrically, winding your arms around his neck as you pulled yourself further against him. “How I love you so.”

In response, his face lit up with a stupidly lovesick grin. This man will be the absolute death of me, you silently swore. You couldn’t help but lean in and press a soft endearing kiss to each dimple that hollowed his cheeks; doing so only made his smile stretch impossibly wider.

The touch of his deft fingertips settled on the sides of your cheeks, holding your face in his hands like it was his most prized possession—technically, you were. His smile never disappeared as he leaned forward, kissing you with such ardent affection that you were afraid your heart might give out from the consuming potency of his adoration.

It tasted like salt, your tears having now dried on your lips. More importantly, it tasted like love. Warm, sweet, syrupy love.

You pulled away, murmuring against his lips, “You would look hot with a wizard beard, by the way."

He chuckled lightly, sustaining the five-second break before returning to your lips to whisper the words, “I knew it.”

[eimiette]

minutes

࣪♡ ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── SPENCER REID

SUMMARY: during a high-stakes stakeout, spencer reid and his partner turn their limited time into a distraction from the case at hand. GENRE: smut with plot, idiots in love CW/TAGS: soft!dom spencer (ofc), quicky, piv sex, fingering, lots of banter, est!fwb relationship, reader is referred to as a girl. this is my first spencer reid smut so b nice pls !! <3

the night had settled into a quiet lull, the kind of silence that stretched on and made time feel endless. you’d been parked outside the suspect’s house for hours, watching the shadows play tricks on your eyes while spencer sat beside you, deeply engrossed in a book he’d brought along—one that had nothing to do with the case.

you glanced over at him, unable to resist a little teasing. “you know, we’re supposed to be watching the house, not reading ‘war and peace’ for the millionth time.”

“it’s ‘the brothers karamazov’,” he corrected without looking up, his tone dry but familiar. “and i’ve only read it four times, not a million. it’s called multitasking.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “right. because when i think of multitasking, i think of spencer reid reading existential russian literature while catching criminals.”

he looked up then, a small smile tugging at his lips. “well, it’s a good thing i’m here to broaden your definition of multitasking, isn’t it?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “sure, sure. meanwhile, i’m stuck doing all the actual work. keeping an eye out, staying alert… maybe you should take notes.”

he made a show of sighing, marking his place in the book before setting it down. “i hate to break it to you, but i’m perfectly capable of watching and reading at the same time. some of us can do more than one thing.”

“oh, is that so?” you arched a brow, leaning in slightly. “then tell me, genius, what’s happening at the suspect’s house right now?”

spencer paused, his gaze shifting to the darkened windows across the street, then back to you. “the lights in the living room went off about fifteen minutes ago. bedroom lights turned on shortly after, but no one’s left the house since then. there’s a dog barking a few houses down, and someone two blocks over keeps playing the same verse of ‘take on me’ on the piano. badly, i might add.”

you blinked, momentarily stunned. “okay, first of all, how do you even—never mind, i don’t want to know. and second, why would anyone ever play just one verse of ‘take on me’? what kind of psychopath are we dealing with here?”

spencer chuckled, a real laugh that lit up his face in a way that made something warm bloom in your chest. “now that’s the real mystery,” he agreed. “maybe we should call in a second team to handle it.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “only if they’re prepared for a psychological profile of a frustrated piano player. that’s definitely outside my area of expertise.”

“mine too, surprisingly,” he said, his smile softening as his eyes met yours. “though i’m sure we could figure it out together.”

your smile matched his, and for a moment, the banter fell away. it was always like this—easy, comfortable, like you’d known each other forever. bickering was your default, but underneath it, there was something else. something steady. something you never quite acknowledged.

“hey,” you said, breaking the quiet but keeping your voice low, almost conspiratorial. “be honest. are you actually glad we got stuck on this stakeout together, or are you secretly wishing morgan was here instead?”

spencer tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “hmm, well, morgan wouldn’t keep up a running commentary of every single shadow that moves, so that would be a point in his favor.”

you scoffed, nudging his arm with your elbow. “you love my running commentary. admit it.”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your stomach flutter. “okay, maybe i’d miss it a little,” he conceded. “just don’t let it go to your head.”

“i knew it!” you crowed, leaning closer with a triumphant smile. “you’re not as tough as you pretend to be, dr. reid. deep down, you actually like having me around.”

his smile turned softer, almost fond, as he met your gaze. “maybe more than i let on,” he said quietly, the teasing edge slipping from his voice.

“you know,” you murmured, voice just above a whisper, “for a genius, you can be pretty slow sometimes.” he turned a page slowly, clearly fighting back a smile. “you’re just jealous because you didn’t think to bring a book.”

“why would i bring a book when i could spend my time annoying you?” you shot back, grinning when he finally glanced over at you, his eyes alight with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“mission accomplished, then,” he replied dryly. “you’ve certainly succeeded in distracting me.”

you let out a laugh. “it’s a talent, what can i say?” you leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping to a lower, more playful tone. “admit it—you like it when i distract you.”

he hummed, pretending to consider your words as he closed his book and set it on the dashboard. “i suppose it does have its perks,” he said, turning his body slightly to face you. his knee brushed against yours, a casual touch that sent a familiar thrill through you. there it was—the shift. you’d felt it countless times before, that subtle change in the air between you. it always started with harmless banter, a little back-and-forth that led to lingering touches, heated looks, and eventually, lips pressed together in the dark of the car or the shadows of a motel room. friends with benefits, that’s what you called it, though even that seemed too formal. it was more like an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that sometimes, the line between friends and something more blurred when the nights got long and lonely.

you arched an eyebrow at him, leaning in even closer. “and what perks would those be, exactly?”

spencer’s eyes flicked down to your lips, his smile turning a bit more mischievous. “the kind that gets me out of reading the same case notes for the third time.”

you chuckled, your heart picking up its pace as you closed the remaining distance between you. “if that’s what it takes to keep you from quoting tolstoy at me again…”

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were on yours, warm and insistent, like he’d been waiting for this. his hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. it wasn’t the first time, not by a long shot, but it still sent a shiver down your spine the way it always did. he kissed you like it was something he needed, not just something to pass the time.

you tilted your head, smiling against his lips. “so, is this how you imagined the stakeout going?”

he pulled back just enough to murmur, “it’s a pretty standard ending for us, don’t you think?”

you laughed softly, your breath mingling with his. “i guess we have a type, huh?”

“apparently,” he replied, his voice low and teasing as his thumb brushed along your jaw. “can’t say i’m complaining, though.”

you hummed in agreement, fingers finding their way into his hair as you brought his lips back to yours. “good. because i’d hate for you to get bored out here,” you whispered between kisses, your words half-teasing, half-sincere.

“i can think of worse ways to spend a stakeout,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his lips trailed down to your neck, and you let your head fall back, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

you felt spencer’s lips brushing against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. his kisses were warm and deliberate, a welcome distraction from the long hours of the stakeout. you leaned into his touch, but a nagging thought pulled at the edge of your mind, breaking through the haze of pleasure.

“spence,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “should we really be doing this right now? i mean, we’re on a stakeout. there’s a chance the unsub could show up any minute.”

spencer’s eyes flickered with amusement, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. “oh, come on,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “we’ve been monitoring this place for hours. we’ve got approximately 48 minutes before the unsub’s next predicted move.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to read his expression. “48 minutes? and how do you know that?”

he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “based on the patterns of his previous crimes, the time between his actions has been pretty consistent. it’s a safe bet we’ve got a little leeway.”

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “so, you’re telling me that you’ve calculated the exact amount of time we have before we need to get back to being all business? kinda sexy you’ve calculated the timing on this out i must say..”

spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he blinked at you, momentarily thrown off. “sexy? you find profiling talk sexy?”

you nodded, your gaze never leaving his. “yeah, it’s like you’re making crime analysis sound intriguing and… well, a little hot.”

he chuckled, a warm, genuine laugh that sent a thrill through you. “i’ll have to remember that. maybe i should include more of that in my briefing sessions.”

you grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “just don’t let the team catch on. we don’t need them getting ideas.”

spencer’s fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt, his touch lingering with a hint of teasing. “you think they’d actually believe it’s my secret weapon?”

“oh, absolutely,” you replied with a smirk, helping him with his shirt. “morgan would probably have a field day with that.”

spencer’s shirt joined yours on the floor as he flashed a mischievous grin. “if that happens, it’s on you. you’re the one who brought up the idea of sexy profiling.”

“guilty as charged,” you said, pushing his trousers down with a playful nudge. “but you have to admit, you’ve got a way of making it sound pretty compelling.”

he raised an eyebrow, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “compelling, huh? is that the new standard for our stakeouts?” “maybe,” you said, leaning in closer. “or maybe it’s just a nice change of pace.”

spencer’s lips curved into a grin as he pulled you in for another kiss, his hands sliding around your waist. “i can live with that.” you responded with a playful glint in your eye, your fingers brushing against his chest as you shifted closer. with a confident move, you straddled his lap, your body aligning perfectly with his. the shift brought you eye to eye, a spark of heat dancing between you. spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips as he adjusted to the new closeness. “i see you’re not wasting any time,” he murmured, his voice a low, appreciative rumble.

you chuckled softly, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “why wait? we’ve got a limited window here.”

spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips. as he adjusted to the new closeness, his fingers slowly slid down, grazing the fabric of your skirt. the sensation of his touch against your skin made you shiver with anticipation. his hands wandered gently, exploring the curve of your hips and the edges of your skirt. his touch was light but deliberate, moving with an almost curious intensity as he traced the contours of your body. you could feel his fingers inching upwards, brushing softly against the bare skin of your thighs.

you pouted, a playful frown tugging at your lips as you looked down at him. “you’re really going to tease me like this?”

spencer met your gaze with a mix of amusement and warmth. “need you to use your words pretty girl.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on your lips. “oh, is that how it’s going to be?”

he nodded, his touch growing more deliberate but still teasingly slow. “absolutely. tell me what you want.”

you bit your lip, the playful challenge clear in your eyes. “i want you to stop teasing and actually—”

before you could finish, spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as his hands continued their exploration. his touch finally met your soaked core over your underwear, sending a jolt of sensation through you. his whisper against your lips was soft but insistent. “use your words. tell me exactly what you want.”

you parted your lips, your breath coming in soft, needy gasps. “touch me… please.”

spencer’s eyes darkened with desire as he heard your plea. his fingers slipped under the edge of your underwear, meeting the dampness of your core. he let out a low curse, his breath hitching. “fuck, you’re so wet. i should really explain the time management of our cases and unsub patterns more often if-” realizing he was losing focus, spencer shifted his attention back to you. he let out a soft curse, his fingers slipping inside you with a deliberate, smooth motion. the sudden, intimate contact made you gasp, the sensation warm and intense. spencer's fingers moved with a focused precision, sliding inside you with a smooth, deliberate motion. the warmth of his touch and the rhythmic pressure made your breath hitch, a soft whine escaping your lips as the sensation intensified.

he pressed his fingers deeper, his hand moving with a steady, measured rhythm. each thrust was controlled and purposeful, designed to maximize the pleasure that rippled through you. his palm rested firmly against your core, the heat from his hand mingling with the warmth of your skin.

as you whimpered softly, your breath coming in short, shuddering gasps, spencer leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “you’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sent a thrill down your spine. his thumb brushed lightly against you, adding a delicate pressure that made you whine again, the sound filled with both need and satisfaction.

you bit your lip, struggling to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “spence… i want to feel you. i want—”

he cut you off gently, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “i know. just give me a moment.” his fingers continued their rhythmic dance, his touch a tantalizing blend of warmth and pressure.

but as your need became more urgent, your voice grew more insistent. “please, i need to feel you inside me.”

spencer’s gaze grew more intense, filled with a deep, hungry longing, and he pulled his fingers away slowly, his expression a mix of affection and eagerness. “alright,” he said softly, his voice thick with desire. “i’m here.”

he reached into his wallet, retrieving a condom with a practiced ease. his lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he prepared it, a thought crossing his mind. it was probably because of you that he’d made it a habit to carry them during cases—an adjustment made in response to your playful insistence on being prepared. he tore open the wrapper and readied himself, then guided you gently but firmly into position. his hands were steady on your hips, helping you align perfectly.

as you settled into position, your breath quickening with anticipation, you glanced at him, a playful edge to your voice. “how much time do we have left?”

spencer’s eyes remained locked on yours as he checked the time. “forty minutes and thirty-two seconds—oh fuck.” the expletive slipped out as you slid onto him, the sudden, intense sensation making his breath hitch.

you leaned in closer, your breaths coming in short, heated bursts as you adjusted to the rhythm. the space between you was charged with electricity, each movement synchronized with a growing intensity.

“don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with pleasure.

spencer’s fingers dug into your hips, his movements becoming more deliberate as he matched your pace. “so pretty like this…” he replied, his voice low and intense. “so fucking pretty.”

as the urgency and desire between you built, spencer’s breath quickened, his hands guiding you with a steady, firm grip. each thrust was met with a soft, satisfied gasp from you, the rhythm between you becoming a fluid, intimate dance.

“doing so good for me baby,” spencer murmured, his voice barely more than a breath as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours with a heated, passionate intensity. his touch was everywhere—his hands on your hips, his fingers trailing along your sides.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. the car’s confined space only seemed to heighten the intimacy of the moment, making each touch and movement feel more intense, more immediate.

with each passing second, the urgency of the situation only added to the thrill. spencer’s focus was entirely on you, his eyes locked onto yours as he pushed you both towards the edge. “we’re almost there,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire and determination. “just a little longer.”

the combination of his touch, his kisses, and the urgency of the moment drove you both closer to the peak. the pleasure built steadily, every sensation amplified in the charged atmosphere. you could feel yourself unraveling, every nerve ending sensitized and every touch magnified. the sensation of him inside you was electrifying, a wave of intense pleasure crashing over you with each movement. your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as you felt yourself falling apart.

“spencer,” you gasped, your voice breaking with the intensity of the experience. your grip on his shoulders tightened, your entire body tensing as the pleasure reached its peak.

spencer’s eyes were locked onto yours, a mix of awe and desire reflected in his gaze. “i know, i know, i’m almost there,” he murmured, his voice a low, reverent whisper. his hands moved with careful precision, his touch both guiding and responding to your reactions.

as the climax hit, you felt a powerful release, your body shuddering and trembling with the intensity of the moment. your voice broke into a series of breathless cries, each one a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

as the intensity of the moment enveloped you, spencer’s grip tightened on your hips, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. the way you had fallen apart, your body trembling with pleasure, had driven him to the brink.

his movements became more urgent, his focus solely on the sensation of being inside you, feeling your warmth and responsiveness. you could see the struggle in his eyes, the way his expression shifted from focused desire to complete surrender. “god, i’m close,” he gasped, his voice thick with a mix of urgency and satisfaction. his hands moved more fervently, his rhythm driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

as you clung to him, your body still trembling from your release, spencer’s movements became erratic. the pleasure built within him until he could no longer hold back. with a series of deep, shuddering breaths, he finally came undone, his body shivering with the force of his climax.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breaths ragged and hot against your skin. his hands still rested on your hips, holding you close as he rode out the final waves of his release.

as the intensity of the moment gradually faded, spencer’s touch softened. he pulled you close, his hands gently brushing over your skin as he helped you both come down from the high. his breath was still uneven, but his touch was tender and reassuring.

“are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a mix of concern and tenderness.

you nodded, a contented smile forming. “yeah, i’m fine. you?”

spencer chuckled, slipping on his shirt. “well, we’ve got approximately 22 minutes to spare.”

you raised an eyebrow, pulling on your top. “and what are we going to do with those 22 minutes?”

he smirked, buttoning his jacket. “well, i could use a quick breather. maybe we can discuss how i should properly schedule my case briefings.”

you laughed, adjusting your clothes. “sounds like a plan. just make sure you don’t forget to factor in the importance of effective timing.” spencer’s grin widened as he straightened his collar. “duly noted. next time, i’ll make sure to account for every possible variable.”

-

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

[inkspiredwriting]

The Day of Swapped Powers

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

In the dimly lit basement of the Umbrella Academy, Five Hargreeves and his wife Y/n were elbow-deep in an experimental project. Y/n, with her ability to read minds, and Five, the seasoned time traveler, were working on a device designed to enhance their powers temporarily. It was supposed to be a simple test, but, as with most things involving the Hargreeves family, things quickly spiraled out of control.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Y/n asked, eyeing the array of wires and glowing components skeptically.

Five, ever confident, waved her concern away. "Of course, it’s safe. I’ve triple-checked everything. What could possibly go wrong?"

Those words hung ominously in the air as they activated the device. There was a blinding flash, a strange crackling noise, and then silence.

When the smoke cleared, Y/n and Five blinked at each other in confusion.

"Did it work?" Y/n asked, touching her temples.

Five glanced at his watch, which now displayed an array of random dates and times instead of the usual readings. "I’m not sure. I don’t feel any different."

Just then, Five’s head buzzed with an overwhelming wave of thoughts—Y/n’s thoughts. "Did he forget our anniversary? What if this messes up our abilities permanently? Why does he always have to be so reckless?"

Five’s eyes widened. “Y/n, I can hear your thoughts!”

Y/n stared at him, her eyes widening in shock. “Wait, what? I can’t hear yours anymore!”

Five glanced at the mess of equipment, realization dawning on him. “I think we’ve swapped powers.”

Y/n’s mouth fell open as she processed this. “You mean I can time travel now?”

Five nodded, grimacing. “And I get to hear everyone’s innermost thoughts. Fantastic.”

The next few hours were a comedy of errors as Five and Y/n bumbled through their new abilities.

Y/n stood in the middle of the living room, attempting to blink across the room. She scrunched up her face in concentration, only to find herself standing on top of the coffee table, much to the dismay of Pogo, who was quietly sipping tea.

“Try focusing on where you want to go!” Five shouted from the other side of the room, nursing a headache from the mental chatter of his siblings.

“I’m trying!” Y/n replied, a mix of frustration and determination on her face.

With a deep breath, she managed to blink to the other side of the room—right into a wall. She slid down with a groan, rubbing her nose. “I think I broke something,” she muttered.

Five winced sympathetically, while also struggling to keep Klaus’s incessant mental babble out of his head. "I wonder if I left my sandwich in the fridge or if Luther ate it. Maybe we should have a séance later. Ooh, what’s Five doing?"

Five squeezed his eyes shut. “Klaus, could you please shut up?”

Klaus, lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything!”

“I heard you thinking,” Five snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And I don’t care about your sandwich.”

Klaus blinked. “Whoa, you’re reading my mind now? That’s… actually kind of creepy. Cool, but creepy.”

The rest of the day was no less chaotic. Five, now unable to block out people’s thoughts, found himself avoiding crowded rooms and anyone remotely agitated. He fled from Luther’s worries about him being a bad Leader, Diego’s brooding thoughts about his love life, and Allison’s musings about her career.

Y/n, meanwhile, was discovering that time travel was far more complicated than it looked. She tried jumping back to the living room, only to end up in her parents' bedroom. Her Mother's screams could be heard throughout the neighborhood

She reappeared in the living room, panting and wide-eyed. “You didn’t tell me there were so many things to consider when jumping!”

Five, who had taken refuge in the kitchen with a pair of noise-canceling headphones, looked at her sympathetically. “Welcome to my world.”

By evening, they had gathered in the living room with the rest of the family for dinner. Five was trying to block out the cacophony of thoughts, while Y/n was gingerly sipping on a glass of wine, hoping to steady her nerves.

“Are you okay?” Viktor asked, noticing Five’s pained expression.

“Just fine,” Five lied through gritted teeth. "When will this dinner end? If I hear one more thought about mashed potatoes, I’m going to scream."

Y/n shot him a sympathetic look. “We need to figure out how to reverse this,” she murmured.

“Agreed,” Five said, wincing as Klaus’s thoughts about unicorns and rainbows floated into his mind.

After dinner, they returned to the basement to work on the device. Y/n, with a newfound appreciation for the complexities of time travel, meticulously followed Five’s instructions. Five, on the other hand, tried not to get distracted by Y/n’s focused thoughts and their shared determination to fix the mess.

“Okay, try activating it now,” Five instructed, holding his breath.

Y/n flipped the switch, and the device whirred to life. There was another blinding flash, and then everything went silent.

They blinked at each other again. Five tentatively tried to blink across the room and succeeded without ending up in a wall. Y/n reached out with her mind, relieved that she could hear the thoughts of the people she loved.

“We’re back to normal,” Y/n said, exhaling in relief.

“Thank God,” Five muttered, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know how you deal with all that mental noise.”

Y/n laughed, stepping forward to hug him. “It’s not easy, but now I understand how much you handle with time travel. I’m impressed.”

Five returned the hug, a smile tugging at his lips. “I have a newfound respect for your abilities too.”

The next day, as Five and Y/n lounged on the couch recovering from their ordeal, Klaus sauntered in, a mischievous grin on his face.

“So, how was your day in each other’s shoes?” he teased, plopping down next to them.

Five rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say, never again.”

Y/n chuckled, squeezing Five’s hand. “It was definitely an experience.”

Klaus’s grin widened. “Maybe next time you can swap bodies instead. That would be hilarious.”

Five and Y/n exchanged horrified looks before bursting into laughter. No matter how crazy things got, they knew they could always count on each other, even if their powers were temporarily on the fritz.

As they cuddled together on the couch, exhausted but happy, Five realized that their love and partnership could withstand any challenge—even a day of swapped powers.

[feefivefoe]

Something I think about when it comes to the batfam is what if they remember reader after a long long time? I’m talking 10+ years after leaving the family. Like what would that be like? Reader wouldn’t be a young adult but someone who’s established themselves in a career and most likely moved out of Gotham, got themselves a somewhat better apartment or maybe a small house, maybe gone through therapy and has decided that they are indifferent about the families existence, to the point that reader forgets about them sometimes. Except Jason reader would probably light a candle every birthday and holiday for him

I feel like the angst potential would be like an aged wine. Bruce Wayne forgot about his first born child their entire life, plus 10 years. Maybe the only reason they remember is a Gotham exclusive on the family, a “where are they now?” type story and half the family (Steph, Cas, Damian, Duke) discover reader existed and the other half is reminded of the forgot part of their family. Oh the angst for Jason! His favorite sibling, his friend from before his death, how could he forget them?? How could Bruce forget them??? And oh god it’s been such a long time where are they?? The story said that they couldn’t find a record in Gotham anymore, are they dead? He let them be forgotten, something he couldn’t stand happening to him, and now here he is, perpetuating it. The fight this would cause!! I feel like the fam would turn on Bruce demanding answers that he doesn’t have. Jason goes to readers room and finds nothing. Maybe reader wanted to cover their tracks? Maybe they didn’t want any trace of them in a manor that never cared for them in the first place? Who knows, all the fam knows is that this building feels so much colder now with this revelation.

Meanwhile reader is getting dinner with friends and work colleagues, having a good and fulfilling life, one outside Gotham, outside of the depressing influence of the Wayne’s, rogues, and owls of Gotham (sorry for making this so long!! Hope you’re having a great day!! Love your work!)

No bc how dare you come into my askbox and drop the most beautiful ask I've seen while I'm sick and brain fogged /affectionate

No hate to anybody else who has sent asks, ily all, but this one HIT MY BRAIN SPASMS AKDMELAK-

BECAUSE YOU'RE SO RIGHT???

The longer it goes on, the worse the inevitable realization is for EVERYONE. Including reader. Because while there's no record of them legally, that's just because they're doing too poorly to have records.

Once you leave Gotham and start settling, you have legal documentation that you just need, you know, for life. Your ssn, birth certificate, etc. Documents that Bruce thought he had somewhere, only to find out you had requested them from Alfred when you left home.

Alfred, being the enabler he is and always hoping you'd reconnect with them one day, just gave you legal copies. Or illegal copies that are good enough to pass, idk how that stuff works.

Point is, they can find you.

BUT.

That's after they get past the emotional turmoil that the discovery puts them through. Imagine if one of them is watching the special for laughs, members of the family snickering at how fake and put together they all are on camera, elbowing each other at how prim and proper some of them are.

Then, near the ending, it cuts to a city far away from theirs. Not Bludhaven, which confuses them. The rest of them stayed, at least relatively close. So where-?

"Y/N L/N, formerly known as Y/N Wayne, has not been seen in the public eye for over a decade. While our reporters were unable to make contact, some still can't help but wonder on where this mysterious member of the beloved family-"

*Snap*

That's Jason, snapping the remote in half while staring at the screen.

Where...when...?

Half of them are confused. Three of them are starting to get a dawning realization.

Jason is having probably the biggest traumatic breakdown he's had since coming to terms with his death and resurrection.

Which town was that? Was that their actual home? Is that just stock footage? Did the reporter lie, did they find you? No, they would have shown that. Fucking vultures wouldn't keep the drama to themselves if they had the chance.

Those are thoughts that don't hit until later, honestly. He's too fucking furious to think coherently for a while.

He wants to scream at Bruce, and hit him, and Dick, and Tim, and fuck it, Alfred too a little. (Unfortunately, they probably have lost Alfred by now. The man was already old.)

He wants to both trash and treasure what's left of your room, small enough to make him feel cramped. It's the size of his old apartment bedroom! Fucking moneybags couldn't give his second ever child a better room than this???

There's no diary left behind, or anything that would bring any sense of closure. Actually, the only thing of note is a scattering of ancient newspaper articles badly taped up on the wall, mostly peeling or on the floor by now.

"BATMAN BESTS POLICE ONCE MORE- RIDDLER IN CUSTODY"

"WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT THE BOY WONDER"

"NO MORE JOKES - CLOWN IN CUSTODY"

"BATMAN'S NEWEST SIDEKICK? ROBIN REPLACED!"

"A NEW HERO? NIGHTWING DEBUTS!"

Them. It's articles about all of them. Their hero exploits, at least. None of them past his...expiration date. It looks like his death is what made you stop idolizing your family so much. Honestly, the paper is old enough to make it hard to read anything but the headlines.

There are a few sticky notes amidst the papers. Clumsy, childlike handwriting.

03/16/XXXX

Richard and Mister Wayne saved people from a bank! Bad guys almost blew em up. That's why they had to miss the concert!

07/30/XXXX

Jason couldn't have dinner because the Joker broke out, and they had to stop him again. Stay in jail! My brother is hungry!!!! >:(

XX/XX/XXXX

I hoped Richard was in town because of my birthday...I guess it was superhero stuff. But Jay remembers! Next year?

XX/XX/XXXX

Not next year :( I made a cake with Alfred instead. Gave some to Jay after he patrolled. Not as good as Alfred's yet, but he still ate it!

Notes you wrote to yourself. To hang up, to show you that even if they aren't there for you, your 'family' is full of good people. That they're doing important stuff, and that's why they can't be there for you.

As a child, you hung up a wall to show yourself why you weren't important. Why you didn't matter.

And Jason breaks.

[marchioness-of-shitposting]

The pure chaos and Bridgerton dumbassery of Anthony walking in on Eloise making out with Cressida is just comedic gold waiting to happen like,

Anthony: You will marry her!

Cressida: Yes, well unfortunately I cannot do so.

Anthony: Have you no shame, Miss Cowper? You have defiled my sister! She is ruined!

Cressida: And I would be happy to make right by her. However—

Anthony: No excuses! You will marry her or we will deul at dawn!

Benedict: Is it not ungentlemanly to deul a young lady?

Anthony: …yes well… you will marry her or… or Kate will deul you at dawn!

Kate: I’m not doing that.

Anthony: Babe, please.

Kate: You’re an imbecile.

Anthony: Fine. Colin will duel Miss Cowper.

Colin: Why must I be the ungentlemanly one?

Anthony: Because someone must!

Daphne: Someone must what?

Benedict: Deul Miss Cowper.

Daphne: Whyever would one of you need to deul Miss Cowper?

Anthony: Because I caught her in the act of defiling our sister!

Daphne: Right… well passion can sometimes get the best of us when we are in love. As long as Miss Cowper does the honourable thing and marries Eloise—

Anthony: She is refusing!

Francesca: Why would you refuse? You both seem so in love.

Cressida: I am not refusing! I am merely confused regarding how exactly I am supposed to—

Daphne: Worry not, brother. I will handle this. *cracking her knuckles* You will marry her or come the dawn our pistols meet and you will take your final breath in the presence of my gleeful victory.

Everyone: …

Benedict: Is anyone else suddenly very afraid of Daphne?

Hyacinth: Cressida and Eloise will make the most beautiful children.

Gregory: Do you think if I ask they’ll name one after me?

Meanwhile

John: Should we maybe… intervene?

Simon: Of course not. When it comes to the Bridgertons it is every man or woman for themselves.

Kate: She must learn to stand on her own. She’ll never survive this family otherwise.

Penelope: Survive this family? Do you actually believe they’ll make it to the wedding before realising two women are unable to wed?

Kate: No. But when love is involved the Bridgertons will find a way and love most certainly is. I called this six months ago.

Simon: Agreed. Though if they are to marry someone must first hunt down Eloise.

John: What are you talking about she's right… where the hell did she go?

Penelope: Oh she’s long gone. She snuck out as soon as Anthony brought up marriage.

[hemmingsleclerc]

Interruption┃remus lupin

summary: where remus and his girlfriend try to have a romantic moment but sirius and james interrupt them

marauders!era

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon in Gryffindor Tower, and most of the students had taken the opportunity to take a nap or catch up on homework. But Remus and his girlfriend, Y/n, had other plans. They had managed to sneak off to the boy's dormitory for some much-needed alone time.

As they lay in bed, cuddling, the room filled with a romantic tension that had been building for weeks. Just as things were heating up,the door to the dormitory burst open.

“moony have you seen my—” Sirius' voice echoed through the room, followed closely by James.

Y/n let out a shrill scream as she scrambled to cover herself with the nearest blanket. Remus, his face a bright shade of red, did his best to shield them both with the blanket, as he stared at his best friends with wide eyes.

Sirius froze in his tracks, his mouth hanging open in pure horror. “OH MY EYES! MY INNOCENT EYES!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “I’M TRAUMATIZED FOR LIFE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING”

James, meanwhile, covered his eyes with his hands and stumbled back towards the door. “I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING! I SWEAR!” he screamed with his eyes closed.

“SIRIUS, GET OUT!” Remus shouted, his voice with embarrassment and fury. He tugged the blanket tighter around himself and Y/n, trying to shield as much of her as possible from his idiot friends.

“GET OUT? I’M BLIND, MOONY! I CAN’T SEE THE DAMN DOOR!” Sirius wailed, clutching at his face. “PRONGS, HELP ME!”

James, who was still trying to get out of the room without looking, collided with a chair and crashed to the floor. “I CAN’T SEE EITHER!” he screamed in panic. “THIS IS A MESS!”

Y/n, who had already partially recovered from the initial shock, couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Sirius, turn around and go!" she shouted, still in Remus' arms.

“DON’T LAUGH, Y/N! THIS IS A SERIOUS TRAUMA!” Sirius retorted, finally turning around and stumbling toward the door, still with his arm over his eyes.

James, still trying to find the door, tripped over with sirius' clothes on the floor. “PADS, WAIT FOR ME!”

Remus sighed deeply. “Padfoot, Prongs, I swear if you don’t go in the next ten seconds…”

But before he could finish his sentence, Sirius managed to find the doorknob and threw it open, dramatically waving his other arm as he stormed out. James quickly followed, eyes still closed, and slammed into the door frame before staggering out after Sirius.

When the door finally closed, Remus and Y/n stood in stunned silence. Then, unable to contain themselves any longer, they both burst into uncontrollable laughter as Y/n grabbed her wand to lock the door.

“Well,” Remus said between laughs, “that definitely wasn’t what I expected.”

“So....., where were we?”

Remus leaned down and captured Y/n's lips in a passionate kiss. The blanket that had once been a shield was now forgotten. And they returned to their original plan.

This time, with no interruptions.