#precarious agreements | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyunsvngs · 7 months

Text

𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞-𝐚-𝐡𝐨𝐞! - spiderman!han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 11.1k

cw: han jisung is spiderman, a brief attack of an alien in school, both characters are 18+ (legal) but are intended to be in high school, friends to lovers, jisung calling mc baby at any given moment

synopsis: you’re obsessed with spiderman, but after a certain event takes place, you become convinced your best friend and spiderman are the same person.

a/n: after a long wait… HEHE smut warnings under the cut and as usual 18+ MDNI!!!!!!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: brief mention of masturbation (both), oral (fem!rec), slightly switchy both parties, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, loss of virginity (both), cumswapping, relatively tame given that its me

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re intrigued.

Interested seemed like too little of a word to use for how you feel whenever you see the latest news report. In a world full of superhuman serums and bulletproof skin, he is still intriguing. Maths homework could be ignored, as far as you’re concerned - and that’s bold for you, because you love maths. You wonder if he likes maths, too.

Every night at 6pm sharp, you settle in front of the television and wait for the news. Spiderman, the hero in question, is always up to something. He loves shooting his webs across the tallest skyscrapers in the city, dangling from them precariously without a care before he lets out a loud, earth-shattering giggle and beats the newest bad-guy that your world has attracted. You always wince at the reports, wondering just how he healed from the injuries he must sustain. It had to be down to the spider venom, you supposed.

“He’s dangerous,” Your dad huffs. He’s lounging on his normal armchair, peeling leather be damned, munching on a bag of crisps. You grimace at his crisp covered digits motioning towards the television. You love your dad, really, and your mum - you just always differed in opinions when it came to Spiderman. He was so fucking cool, and you seriously feel like a child saying that all of the time, despite your best friend Jisung telling you that we all have our interests. “I mean, he’s putting normal civilians in danger. Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman my ass.”

“Honey,” Your mother admonishes, digging through her own bag of crisps. You briefly consider why you haven’t been offered one. They look tasty, when your father isn’t rubbing luminous orange dust onto his previously crisp white shirt. “You know she doesn’t like it when you say bad things about him. He- what was the word again, baby?”

“He intrigues me,” You mumble, pretending to erase equations from your homework. Your cheeks blaze crimson when your mother hums in agreement, nodding triumphantly to your father. You wish you could be as sassy as her sometimes. You’re more timid, hiding behind oversized hoodies and Jisung. He is a lot more confident than you, more loud and exuberant - you suppose that’s why he had adopted you as his all those years ago.

Your mother had been best friends with Jisung’s aunt, Sohee. She’s just like Jisung, zipping around the place at an insane pace to offer you snacks and drinks at every second. When you and Jisung had first met in preschool, you’d been drawing patterns in the mud with your grubby little fingers, hiding from the bullies. He’d criticised your drawing. He helped you fix it, though, chubby cheeks puffing out with a grin when it was good enough for his taste. Looking back now, that behaviour was so Jisung, but your mother had been delighted to find out that you’d already met her best friend’s son.

It had been easy becoming friends with him after that. Every day, he’d drag you by your wrist and take you to the yard, insisting on doing your co-operative drawings together. The teachers had a fit everyday on the state of you two by the end of your break, but your mothers had loved it, taking a million and one pictures a second. He stuck up for you both to the teachers, and then he stuck up for you to the bullies and it was like you’d known each other since birth. Inseparable at the hip, you’d been glued together throughout preschool, primary school and now high school - it doesn’t look like you’re getting rid of him anytime soon, either. You’d applied for the same colleges.

You don’t particularly want to be rid of him anyway. He’s alright, really, and you had a bit of a girly, high school crush on him. You would rather jump off of a building like Spiderman sans the webs if anyone found out.

Another thing Jisung is good for is listening to your rants. He waits for your call every night after the news had been on, and you clamber on your bed obediently after the report finishes to press on his contact.

“Jisung!” You squeal. There’s a lot of feedback on his end, and you hear a low ‘shit, fuck, oops, oh God’, until there’s a loud thud and he giggles, chiming through your tinny phone speakers. “... Ji? Are you okay?”

“Yep, sorry, baby,” He sounds out of breath, but you smile when he speaks anyway. Whenever he calls you baby, his designated nickname for you, it makes your heart flutter and you have to grimace to ignore it. His face pops into the little square designated to him, his cheeks blushing pink and round eyes wide. His hair is slightly damp, from what you’re not sure - but he looks cute. “I just got home. I was- I was running some errands for my aunt.”

“God, she’s got you running like crazy lately,” You mumble, still jotting down numbers on your homework. It’s taken you hours, but you always get distracted on nights like this. “Did you see it?”

Jisung hums, and then you hear him groan. He’s stretching, slightly toned honey-skinned arms appearing above his head in the plain oversized t-shirt he’s wearing. You try not to stare. “Did I see what?”

“The- the news, Sungie,” You feel shy mentioning it so outright. It is a weird interest, a weird thing to be obsessed with - Jisung often reassures you that it really isn’t, and his anime obsession was a lot worse. It was. You sigh, clearing your throat. “Spiderman. He was- he was super cool tonight.”

“Ooh, was he?” Jisung teases, chuckling when you groan in protest. “I’m only playing with you, baby. I saw it. He was super cool, wasn’t he?”

“Ha-ha, super cool, ‘cause he’s a superhero. You’re funny.”

“That’s why you keep me around,” Jisung chirps. “Hey, have you done the maths homework? I haven’t had time, because of the errands, y’know.”

“Hmm, yeah, I’m almost finished,” You aren’t. You’re far from it, really, but he doesn’t have to know that. “I can let you copy it tomorrow morning, before class.”

“No, that’s alright, baby. We can just cross-check our answers tomorrow,” His voice sounds tired, but you don’t comment. It’s better not to question Jisung when he’s like this.

His aunt has him doing a lot these days. You haven’t wanted to ask about it because you know it must be tough for her to look after Jisung since his parents passed, especially when Jisung is always going at full speed and is probably seconds away from giving his aunt a heart attack. He was always clumsy as a child, too, snapping his glasses in half and having a few broken bones to tell long stories about. He always means well, but sometimes you wish that he had something else to get his energy out of his system rather than stressing his aunt out.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Jisung, surely you know who Spiderman is, like, underneath the mask,” Seungmin quips through a mouthful of dry, government regulated school food. “You spent all that time with Bang Chan in the internship.”

Seungmin is a lanky boy that just came along one day and decided to be yours and Jisung’s friend. With him, he brought a younger, smiley guy named Jeongin, and Jeongin brought Felix. Felix is just Felix - nothing else can describe him. Before long, you’d found yourself in a de facto group of misfits that you weren’t even sure you could call friends. Apart from Jisung, of course.

Jisung simply raises an eyebrow in response to Seungmin. “I mean, sure. I met Mr Bang a few times, but I never met Spiderman. Not out of his suit, anyway.”

You gasp. Jeongin startles from the nap he was taking on the cafeteria table, raising his head to look at you angrily. Felix pushes his head back down from the hood on his jumper and Jeongin immediately falls back to sleep. “You met him in his suit?”

“Well, yeah,” Jisung shrugs. When he turns to look at you, your mouth is agape, feeling slightly betrayed. Jisung shoves another spoonful of cheese - was it really cheese? - pasta into his mouth, and then he’s sighing. “It’s not a big deal, baby. If I really met him, the real him, you’d be the first to know. I promise.”

“You still got that fat crush on Spiderman?” Felix chirps. You meet his amused gaze with your own steely glare, pouting over your packed lunch.

“It’s not a crush-”

“It’s an interest,” Jisung clarifies for you, and you smile. He’s always jumping to your defence like that. You bite into an apple, savouring the crisp, fruity taste on your tongue, and then the bell rings. Sighing, you watch as the boys around you get up - including Jeongin, fox like eyes bleary from sleep - and swing their bags on their shoulders.

“I’ll see you later,” You murmur to Jisung, who throws his arm around your waist in a quick hug. “Enjoy English.”

Right. You and Jisung didn’t have the same classes. He has English now, and you have chemistry, which is probably your least favourite of all classes. You just weren’t a fan of the whole blowing shit up scenario, unlike Jeongin was, and the boy trundles behind you towards your chemistry class.

The class is boring. The teacher drones on and on about some experiment you couldn’t care less about, and you pretend to care. You’re taking notes, sure, ever the diligent student - but you can’t get anything other than Spiderman out of your mind. Jisung met him, and didn’t tell you, and who even is this guy? You’d love to know. You’d love to just see him, even once, just to be able to tell the story.

A massive crash stops the teacher’s speech. He turns to the door, confused, and the students do the same. You do too, furrowed eyebrows staring at the door. Another crash causes people to begin to rise, and the teacher starts ushering everyone out of the class to the closest exit route. You’re frozen in confusion and fear, pencil halted in your fingers, even as another noise makes the teacher run out behind the class.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re still sitting in your seat, eyes wide and heart racing. Then, you spring up to follow the rest of your cohort, sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor as you run to the door. Swinging it open, you stick your head out the door and look around, trying to see if the coast is clear. With a planet full of interdimensional attacks, you can’t be sure, and looking left leads you to see a scaly, large animal type of thing. You squeak, startled, and immediately retreat into the class before it notices you. What the fuck do you do? What are you meant to do?

The whole room begins to shake, and you have a feeling the creature’s getting closer. Beakers are thrown to the floor from the vibration ringing throughout the room, glass shattering loudly, and you feel like you’re about to scream, or cry, or run, and you can’t run.

Doing the only thing you can think of, you cower to the floor, hiding underneath a table donned in smashed beakers. You’re curled up in a ball, watching students standing outside murmuring and discussing their own safety, and then the shaking stops.

The door swings open. Everything outside the classroom is too intimidating, items being thrown everywhere, and you can’t even bring your legs to move with how badly they’re shaking. Who’s just walked in? You pray for Jisung. You pray for someone who’s going to help you hide, someone who’s going to keep you safe, and then-

A masked face pops underneath the table. He’s lithe, slender, but the tight red and dark blue suit highlights the hint of abs and sculpted biceps on his body. Holy fucking shit. Your eyes widen. Spiderman is in your school.

“Are you okay?” His voice is deep, but it sounds almost like someone putting on a deeper voice to hide their identity. You nod hesitantly, and then he’s extending a gloved hand towards you, pulling you out from underneath the table. You’re unable to speak. Once you’re standing in front of him, you notice he’s around a head or so taller than you, but definitely not as tall as you thought he’d be. He sighs, chest heaving with panic. You suppose it must be pretty tough work fighting aliens from outer space. “I’ve webbed him up for now, but it won’t hold much longer. Go- please, go and run. Please, anywhere, just- go and hide, or run.”

“I-I-”

“Promise me, b- um, you. I can’t let you get hurt.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- Yes, I promise, I’m going to- I’ll go, thank you, thank you-”

“Wait, no!” He shouts, rubbing his temples - or at least, you’d imagine he was but he’s just rubbing the mask in frustration. You watch as he bounds over to the window, kicking it open, and the students outside turn to the classroom in awe. You’re rooted in place, as if vines are circling your ankles and securing you to the floor, mouth agape. You wait for him to give you further directions, and you gasp when he runs back over to you, picking you up and carrying you over to the window. You feel light as a feather, and all you can think is how he’s even carrying this amount of strength in that small body. “Too risky. Outside.”

“O-Outside?” You stammer, cheeks bright red, and he nods. He leans to place you out of the window, delicately placing you on your feet, and then he speeds off, shouting a quick “see you later!”.

You blink. You can hear the noises of walls breaking and windows shattering as Spiderman fights, and Felix runs up to you from the crowd outside and slings an arm over your shoulder. You’re still staring inside the classroom as if you can see through walls and watch the fight. What did see you later mean?

What’s the likelihood, honestly? You knew he was the friendly neighbourhood guy, and all that, but why not Bang Chan, in his sleek nanotech suit? This was a big fight. You find yourself getting worried, biting your nails in concern for the man you don’t even know. You have to remind yourself of that. He saved you because you’re any other citizen, not for any other specialty - you don’t know this guy.

“C’mon, over here,” Felix ushers you over, tone soft. When you’re with him, Seungmin and Jeongin, he sighs, rubbing your back. “Crazy, right? At least you can say you met Spiderman now.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung is safe, thank god. You kind of feel guilty for not worrying about him at the moment, but he’d text you shortly after, saying he’d left just before it all kicked off because he felt a little under the weather. He wanted to make sure you were okay, though, so he texted you as soon as he could. You’d never admit the blush that rose to your cheeks when you read it.

It’s quiet in your room. Your parents had sprinted to you as soon as you’d come through the door, having seen the situation on the news, and you’d reassured them that Spiderman had saved you. It definitely changed your dad’s perspective of him, and now you lie on your bed feeling more than relieved.

Your fingers tap on your tummy in thought, though. He was making his voice deeper, that much you could tell, but why? How was he there so quickly? There’s no fucking way he was a student. Still, that body in the tight suit… you’d definitely been looking. You’re a woman, of course you were going to look. He had a figure enviable to every man. Broad shoulders, abs just slightly visible, strong legs that carried you over to the window…

In your dreamlike fantasy, you’re considering something you previously never would’ve thought of. What if Jisung was underneath that suit? Now, that would be perfect. Both of your crushes being one being, Jisung pulling that suit up his lithe thighs and letting it settle over his broad pecs.

Before you know it, your hand is dipping under the hem of your pyjama pants, unable to feel guilty for thinking about your best friend in this way. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time, with many of your nights spent whimpering into your pillow and coming apart on your own fingers wishing they were his. He had such nice hands… What if it was him who had grabbed you from underneath that table? Your hand trails down to find your folds, slick and ready for whatever you had in store, but you focus on your clit, swollen and aching between your bottom lips. Would he finger you in the gloves if you asked, let you ride his abs in the suit until completion? Would he kiss you upside down, hanging from the-

A tap on your window makes you jump. The room is dark, save for your bedside lamp, and you turn rapidly to see a faceless figure just about popping in from the corner. You yank your hand out of your bottoms, squeaking, and then you squint to try and see the figure closer.

Holy shit. Spiderman is at your bedroom window.

Your cotton tank top is revealing, so you turn immediately to reach for your dressing gown and tie it around your figure. You pad over to the window in your socks, still wide-eyed and completely baffled, and then you turn the handle to allow him access. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” You blurt, toes curling against your floor. Spiderman swings inside instead of responding, walking around your room like he’s been there a million times before. “No, seriously, what the fuck?”

He turns to you, shrugging. “I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

You blanch. He did say that, yes, but that still doesn’t explain the million questions you have right now. “Well, yeah, but- how do you know where I live?”

“I- uh, found it in the school office,” He hops up onto your bed, sitting cross legged. His mask hides his face, but he hums in pleasure at the feeling of the bedsheets on him. “After the fight, I went in there. Glad you’re okay, by the way.”

He’s still making his voice deeper, and you blink, nodding in response. “I’m great. Can I- can I ask why you’re here?”

He shrugs again, fiddling with a loose thread on your duvet. “No reason. Got bored. I was swinging around and remembered I saw your address on the computer.”

“Right,” You shake your head, still baffled. Instead of questioning him further, you jump onto the bed in front of him and copy his position, cross legged. “Don’t you have, like, recovering to do? I heard you got beat pretty bad.”

“Nah, no way,” He scoffs, rolling his neck. You suppress a smile. Cocky. “Spider venom, y’know? It repairs everything super quick.”

You were right. You can’t suppress a smile at his response, clicking your fingers at his masked face. “I fucking knew it! I guessed it was the venom.”

He stops fiddling with the duvet, turning to you and tilting his head in question. “You’re smart, aren’t you? Hey, are you the one that’s friends with that kid?”

You narrow your eyes. Jisung’s a liar. If Spiderman knows who he is, that means they’ve met more than once, and Jisung lied. You reach for your phone, ready to bitch him out via text, but Spiderman knocks your phone out of your hand. You turn to him, confused.

“Talk to me,” He whines. “I told you I was bored!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, damn. Yes, I’m friends with Jisung. Why?”

“No reason,” He wiggles forward on your bed, grabbing your hand. You’re confused, but then he launches you into an intense thumb war, one that you were never going to win. Everytime you go to move your thumb in response to his, he’s got you pinned, and before he speaks again you’re five rounds down. “He’s pretty cool, right?”

“Who?” You ask, still focusing on the thumb war.

“Jisung,” He clarifies, clearing his throat. Making his voice that deep must be taking its toll on his vocal chords. “He’s kinda cool. Super smart, I thought.”

“He definitely is,” You laugh when he pins your thumb down again, swatting at his wrist to get him off of you. “He’s smarter than me.”

“And, uh,” He clears his throat again, leaning back on your bed. Leaning back like that, you have a full view of his body in his suit, and you have to stare at the posters on your wall to avoid looking at him. He puts his hands behind his head, the full picture of relaxation, and you wished he’d stop throwing you this random curveball behaviour. “Is that all you think of him? Just smart?”

You blush, finally reverting your eyes to him. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean… Do you have a crush on him, or?”

“Who wants to know?” You bristle, playing with your hands in your lap. You look down at your chipped nail polish, awkwardly shifting on the bed in your pyjamas. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“No one knows who I am,” He responds easily. “I want to know. Tell me. Do you have a crush on him?”

“I’m not telling you that-”

“I’m bored!” He whines again, sitting up. You let him grab your hand again, pulling your pinky finger into a promise. You swear you see the mask smile. “Tell me!”

“Okay, damn,” You sigh, exasperated. Was he on molly or something? Are you dreaming? “I guess so. I guess I always have, yeah, I don’t know. I don’t think he’d ever like me like that.”

He coos at that, taking your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting. “Why not?”

“He’s- well, I don’t think I’m good enough for someone like him,” You admit, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s awkward. He’s my best friend. It would ruin things, and I guess I’ve never let myself think about it like that.”

“You should,” He hums. You blink, staring at him. What the hell is he on about? “I just mean you should. Maybe he likes you too, y’know? I like my best friend. I’d love to know if she likes me back.”

“You do?” You wiggle closer, eager to know more. “You like your best friend? What’s she like?”

“Well,” He strokes your hand again before pulling away, leaning his chin on his hand. “She’s super pretty. Smart, too. I’ve known her since like, forev- for a few years, I think, in total.”

“It’s kind of the same with me and Jisung,” You sigh again, pouting. “I’ve known him for my whole life, basically. I’m just scared it’ll ruin things, but I think about him a lot when I’m on my own.”

He snickers. “Really? Like when you’re doing what you were doing when I got here?”

You swat at his shoulder, blushing bright red. “Shut up, oh my god! I thought you- shut up. Just don’t.”

“Maybe he thinks about you then too, I don’t know,” He shrugs nonchalantly, and then he’s getting up and pacing around. You watch him fiddle with a few photo frames on your desk, humming at ones of you and Jisung when you were younger and even fiddling with a few of your academic medals and prizes. “I won’t tell him, by the way.”

“You see him often?” You ask, voice soft. “He said-”

“Nah, I’ve only seen him once or twice,” He stretches his arms above his head, still staring at your desk full of trinkets. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

“Can I know?”

He turns to you. “Know what?”

“I want to know who you are,” Your voice is confident, but you feel anything but, teeth chewing your bottom lip nervously. “You saved me, and now you’re in my bedroom. I feel that I deserve to know.”

He sighs loudly this time, walking towards the window. “When we get to know eachother better, maybe.”

“Wait, hang on,” You watch him sling a foot out of the window, exasperated. He can’t leave! “Where are you going? I thought you said you were bored-”

“Things to do, baby,” He replies quickly. You blink. That ‘baby’ sounds awfully familiar, and you stand up quickly to walk towards the window, but he’s already webbing away. “Bye!”

You stand there, shocked and confused. He’s swinging from building to building away from you, and you’re just standing there like an idiot. You were interrupted before you could even start touching yourself, forced into a thumb war and coerced into admitting your deepest, darkest secret, and then he just… leaves? Just like that?

Your life is proving to be a little more interesting than you thought, but your dreams were filled with familiar round cheeks beneath a red and blue mask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Baby, is there a reason why your eyes are burning holes into the side of my head?”

You’re convinced your best friend is Spiderman. There, sitting beside you with his glasses sliding down his nose and comfortable in a grey hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms on, it’s hard to believe. But you’re not stupid.

First of all, since he started that internship with Mr Bang, he’s been weird about letting you inside his room. This is the same person that you had many sleepovers with growing up, and as recently as a few months ago you’d been cuddling in bed together watching Howl’s Moving Castle. He has something to hide, but you’d been let down when you’d arrived at his house earlier and shouldered past him to find literally nothing of suspicion inside his room, other than an anime girl mouse pad with the boobs to rest your wrist on. You knew that existed though, ever since his birthday last year when Felix had gifted it to him, so what gives?

Secondly, Sohee is more stressed out than ever. You’d caught sight of her flitting around the kitchen when you arrived for your homework friend-date, scrubs on and ready to head to the hospital but still panicking about something. Jisung said multiple times that he’d been helping her out more and that’s why he’s been so busy lately. She shouldn’t still be panicking.

Thirdly, Spiderman wouldn’t make his voice deeper to you unless you knew him. He wouldn’t need to, or you wouldn’t recognise his voice - unless it’s a habit he’s picked up, perhaps. That doesn’t change that the way he called you baby last night sounded a little bit too familiar, too comfortable. It came out of his mouth like second nature.

Still, it makes no sense. Surely Jisung would have told you? You’re his best friend, he said so, so he’d tell you. Or would he? Maybe Felix knows. You’re also hoping deep down that it isn’t true, because if it is, you told your crush last night that you liked him.

You can’t even be mad at Jisung for it. He’s still staring at you, and you’re staring blankly back while shoving snacks into your mouth. There’s crumbs all over your homework.

“Jisung,” You begin, and he hums in response. “Would you tell me your deepest, most serious secret if I worked it out?”

He chokes on his energy drink, spluttering neon blue liquid all over his bed. You want to giggle, to make fun of him, but you’re sure you’ve gotten somewhere here. He wipes his mouth, clears his throat, and turns back to you. His hands are shaky where they clutch his textbook, and his eyes are almost blurry through the glasses. “I tell you everything anyway.”

“I don’t think you do,” You respond, quick as a beat. He blinks, lips parting. “Not by that reaction, Jisung. I think you’re hiding something from me.”

He scratches his nose with the end of his pen, looking down at the textbook again. You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“Okay,” You hum. He sighs, scribbling something on the paper. It’s so quiet in the room that you can hear his pen scribbling, but you’re speaking again before you can even think. “Did I tell you Spiderman came to my room last night?”

He gulps audibly. “Nope.”

“Yeah, it was kinda weird,” You take a sip from your energy drink, still staring at him vacantly. Jisung’s eyes flit up to you, and then back down to the textbook. Oh, he knows. He knows that you know. He knows that you know that he knows. “He saved me in school, when that alien thing was there, and then he came to my room and asked me about you.”

“He, uh- really? Did he?”

“Mhm,” Your gaze is steely. “Jisung, I know you’re Spiderman.”

Jisung bursts out laughing. It would be believable, but you’ve known him since you were four years old and it’s a fake laugh. He’s cackling, loud as brass, and he lets out a little “ooh” afterwards as if he can’t believe you. “Baby, that’s the craziest theory you’ve ever come up with.”

“Is it?” You question, head tilting to the side. Then, in the smartest moment you’ve ever had, you pick up Jisung’s energy drink from the floor. He’s still looking at you, a fake smile on his lips, and you take a sip from it casually. Sharing drinks isn’t new for you. You glug back the artificial blue raspberry flavour, and then keeping eye contact with him, you let go.

Before the can is able to fall and spill the rest of its contents over your own textbook, and inevitably Jisung’s One Piece bed sheets, he reaches out and grabs it, hand wrapping around the can, quick as a flash. It all happens in about a second, and you gasp. Jisung gasps. His hand tightens around the can and it crinkles, an impossible show of strength, and then he’s blinking at you. You raise an eyebrow.

“I knew it.”

He puts the can safely on the bedside table, and then he’s slamming his textbook shut. You watch in confusion as he paces back and forth on his bedroom floor, running his hands through his hair over and over.

“Okay!” He points at you, victorious. “That was a reflex. I knew you were going to do that, I’m smart, duh! I knew you were going to drop the can to prove something, and-”

“Jisung,” You say, voice soft. He stops pacing, sock clad feet rooted on the carpet to stare at you. You’re going to get him. You’re going to get him good. “Do you not want me to know? Is that what this is?”

He immediately falls to the floor, head resting on your knee as he looks up at you. You can’t even feel sorry for him, because your plan is working perfectly. His eyes are round and vulnerable, and then he clenches them shut in distress. You think he’s probably a second away from crying. “Baby, it’s not that. I wanted to protect you. It would be dangerous if the bad guys knew who you were, knew that you knew, and I know I shouldn’t have come to your room, that was wrong of me, and-”

You giggle. Jisung furrows his eyebrows, eyes opening. “I knew I was right.” He gasps, pointing at you again.

“Judas! You’re a judas!” He’s shocked, leaning back on his haunches and staring at you. “I can’t- I can’t believe you, that was so-”

“Sneaky? Good? Smart?” You list, leaning back on his twin bed. He stands up, hands on his hips. You’re ready for him to bitch you out, but you don’t care - you knew that you had to know, had to have it confirmed. He taps his foot, and then you see a smile break out on his lips.

“Okay, yeah, that was pretty good,” He hums, returning to the bed. You let him shut your own textbook and sprawl across you, head in your lap. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve told you.”

You sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “That’s okay, Ji. It’s fine. I’m just a little embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why?” Jisung asks, his eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You want to scoff. Embarrassed for two major reasons - one, because you’ve been gushing about how cool Spiderman is for weeks, maybe even months, and two because you told Spiderman last night that you liked Jisung. Spiderman and Jisung are the same person. Sure, it makes things easier. You no longer have a crush on two people, only one, but it doesn’t change the fact that Jisung knows and is yet to say anything.

“I’ve been talking to you about Spiderman for weeks,” You blush, pushing his hair off of his forehead. He whines, thrashing his feet and shaking his head like a dog to hide his forehead again. He’s so dramatic. You like him so bad. “And- and you- it was you, then. You came to my room last night.”

“Yeah, that was risky,” He responds, exasperated. “I just had to, baby. I don’t know, you always seemed so interested in Spiderman and not me. I needed to know if you saw me like you saw him.”

You pause your movements on his head, blinking at the wall in front of you. When you turn back to him, he’s blushing, teeth gnawing his bottom lip. His eyes are conveniently staring at the window, away from you.

“Jisung,” You start, hesitant. “What do you mean?”

He sits up sharply. “Wanna go on the roof?”

“T-The roof? Jisung, how are we gonna- oh. Oh.”

Jisung jumps up from the bed, toeing his sliders onto his feet and pushing the window open. It gives you deja vu - that same figure was pushing the window open just like this to place you safely outside in school yesterday, and then he was coming through your window to see you late at night. It’s hard to believe that they’re the same person, the man you admired so much and your best friend who’s standing by the window expectantly waiting for you to join him.

You hesitantly stand up, brushing off imaginary crumbs from your joggers and looking at Jisung. He smiles, a soft, reassuring smile, and then he’s scooping you up from the floor and wrapping your legs around his waist. It’s slender, the plush flesh of your thighs almost obscuring it, and you squeak in surprise at being in the air.

“I- Jisung?!”

“You have to hold on tight,” He says. His face is inches away from yours, plush lips looking more than appealing and his glasses making him look so endearing. “I need my hands for this, so hold onto my shoulders.”

You nod, face blushing crimson at the realisation of just how close you are. Would he have you like this if he fucked you? Legs around his waist, hands on his shoulders, his face so close to yours as he pants and whines and moans-

You squeak again when he slides out of the window, and then you see him in action. His hands stick to the outside of the apartment building, feet kicking up against the concrete wall. Your heart is racing so badly it feels as though it could burst out of your chest, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the height or because you’re tightly pressed against Jisung.

When he swings you both over the side ledge on the roof, you notice the sun’s set already. Time always goes by quickly with Jisung, but the stars are already out, and the air is crisp and biting against your limbs despite the layers. Once he’s safely stood on the roof, he places his hands underneath your thighs and detaches you from his firm body, placing you on your feet.

You’re disorientated, shocked at the sheer height of the building and at the way Jisung seems to be swinging you around like it’s nothing, but he’s simply staring at you. A wide smile stretches from ear to ear, and he blinks when you don’t say anything. “It’s cool, right?”

“Y-Yeah, super cool,” You admit, chest heaving. “Really high up, but cool. Jisung, why are we on the roof?”

He’s wrangling you, hands on your arms and pushing you to the floor. It feels firm, but with what you now know about him, you know he’s holding back. He plops down next to you, eyes wide and expectant.

“I wanted to do it properly,” He begins. He pauses for a moment, licks his lips, pushes his glasses up his nose, and then he’s speaking again. “I like you, so that’s why I asked. Is it romantic up here? It feels romantic, but I’m not too sure-“

He stands up and begins pacing around the roof before you realise he’s even moved. You raise an eyebrow. “Jisung?”

“I wanted to do this right, y’know?” He pauses, hands on his hips. He looks comical, trying to assert dominance over you like that in those Hello Kitty pyjama trousers. “I- I wanted to swing by and like, grab you, or something? But then you worked it out, and now I’m just standing here with you on a roof…”

He continues mumbling like a mad scientist, eyes focused on a spot next to your head. You stand up, making your way towards him, and he still refuses to look at you. He likes you back. He likes you back, and he’s still your best friend - he’s still Jisung, but he’s also Spiderman, and you’re okay with that. You don’t have to like two people. You only like one, and it’s your goofy best friend.

“Is this even romantic? You know, we could just forget about it and-“

You press your lips to his. He doesn’t make any form of surprised noise, only cupping your cheeks with his hands and pulling you close to him. His glasses bump against your face, his lips pouty against yours and plush and maybe a bit too wet for a first kiss, but you’d always figured he’d take it too far. That’s what you like about him. Jisung never does anything by halves.

It’s brief, too brief for your liking, but then he’s pulling away with a satisfied grin on his face. You blink. Wait.

“Wait, your stupid- your stupid spidey things. Did you know I was going to kiss you?” You pout, and he giggles. “No, seriously! Could you like- I don’t know, feel it coming?”

“Not until you were like, a few inches from my face,” Jisung admits, and his teeth gleam in the brilliance of the evening. “I had a feeling you might.”

You sigh. “So why didn’t you stop talking?”

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “I couldn’t stop once I started.”

The statement is so true to Jisung, so in character for your best friend that you can do nothing but accept it.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s easy to fall into a different routine with Jisung.

He never asked you to be his girlfriend. You’re pretty sure you’re fine with that, though - things have had a natural manner of progressing, and now your best friend slash boyfriend slash superhero turns up at your window every night after he’s been on his neighbourhood patrol. Sometimes he’s a little bruised, and sometimes he’s just looking for consolation kisses.

It’s a normal night for you when it happens. Jisung’s halfway out of your bedroom window on his way to perform perfect justice, pulling his mask down over his annoyingly beautiful face. You’re standing a few feet away grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll see you later, my baby,” You can see his grin through the mask. The eyes on his mask form beautiful crescent moons with his happiness. He falters, legs swinging on your windowsill. “Wait. I am coming back here, yeah?”

“Of course,” You giggle. He sends you two fingers in a mock salute, and you watch him begin his journey up the wall to your roof. A beat passes and you’re still standing there, smiling, hands on your hips, and then the masked head of your best friend pops back down into your window, upside down, tilting to the side in confusion. You blink, confused. “What is it, Sungie?”

“Well, where’s my goodbye kiss? Damn,” He huffs, and you roll your eyes playfully. You make your way to the window, sock-clad feet padding on your carpet, and you pull his mask down to his eyes with two fingers. It miraculously stays on his head, and his lips form a teasing grin.

Despite him being upside down, you place a chaste kiss to his lips, and you watch in amusement as he swings away afterwards. You can still hear him giggling with glee from a few buildings away.

It’s a few hours later when he comes back. You’re flicking through a book for English, scrawling notes and highlighting words on sticky notes. It’s started to rain, and the city lights only look brighter in the dusk with the pattering of water on your window. You left it open, of course, for your superhero, but the cold air bites at your arms even through the fluffy blanket you’ve got wrapped around yourself.

Just as you’re beginning to contemplate closing it, a louder, more prominent tap hits the glass. When you turn to the window, Jisung is slouched against your windowsill, chest heaving beneath red lycra and forehead pressed against the glass. He’s got his mask between his teeth, and his hair is dishevelled, floppy brown locks obscuring his eyes. You can still catch sight of the bruising on his cheekbones and you gasp, rushing towards the window.

You drop your blanket in shock, but you swing the window open, pulling Jisung inside with one hand. He stumbles through, disoriented and confused, and you lead him to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Got hurt,” He explains, huffing out a breath. The mask drops from his teeth unceremoniously, with a wet plop to your carpeted floor, but you don’t care. You rush to sit next to him, fingers gripping his chin to pull him to face you. His eyes are round, sincere, and he gives you a soft smile. “It’ll heal before long, baby, don’t panic.”

“I am panicking,” You say, resolute, because you really are. Bruising is scattered across his cheekbones, fading into green on the plush of his cheeks and his lip looks like it had been burst, but is already healing. “Will it- will it take long? Do you need me to get the first aid kit, or-“

“Baby,” He shakes his head, grabbing your hands. You watch with parted lips as he leans forward, both of you cross legged on the end of your bed. It reminds you of when Spiderman first visited you, when you weren’t quite sure of his identity. Jisung presses his forehead against yours, and you let him look into your eyes. It’s like he’s demanding everything that’s ever gone through your head to be vocalised. You’d tell him if he asked. “I’m really okay. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m fine. Most of it is on my ribs from falling, to be honest.”

“Your ribs?!” You shriek. “Show me. Let me see, I need to help you-“

You’re already trying to wrangle Jisung out of his suit, and he giggles, clearly thinking this is all just some game. He holds his arms up pliantly, though, and you don’t have the thought processing ability within you to realise that Jisung’s suit is an all-in-one and you’re currently stripping him down to his boxers.

The suit is wet too when you drop it to the floor, and before long you’re blinking at your best friend in his plain black boxers and he’s grinning at you as if this is any other day. There’s no bruising on his ribs. You’re staring at his abs, regardless, so you’re not sure you would’ve even noticed.

“You look fine.”

“I told you it heals quickly, baby,” He grins. You blink when he wriggles on your bed, laying on his back and stretching his arms above his head again, this time to get comfortable. His legs stretch out too, and you avoid looking anywhere below his waist.

His body is a spectacle. You can’t stop looking. Broad shoulders taper off into an extremely defined chest and a tight, thin waist adorned with prominent abdominal muscles, before reaching a v-line that leads into his boxers. You’re wide eyed, wanting nothing more than to reach out and run your fingers down his honey toned skin.

“Why-“ You cough, clearing your throat. Jisung raises an eyebrow. He’s grinning from ear to ear, teeth gleaming. “Why did you let me strip you if you’re literally fine?”

The bruising on his cheek is already fading. He shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge with the movement and you think you might choke on your own spit. “You seemed pretty determined, so I just allowed it. You wanted to see me naked, I assumed, so-“

“Jisung!” You wail, slapping his shoulder. He groans in pain, catching your hand, and he grits his teeth with a hiss.

“My shoulder! Fuck, that hurt, ouch, baby! What was that for?!”

You gasp. He clutches his shoulder, letting out little pants of hurt sounding noises. You let your head fall to his chest, engulfing him with a hug. “Jisung, I’m so sorry-“

“Hehe,” He giggles. When you look at him, he’s sticking his tongue out, completely fine. You groan, annoyed you fell for it, and then he’s grabbing your forearms and pulling you upwards on top of him.

Your breasts press against his chest like this, due to your lack of bra in your sleep shirt, and his eyes widen when he feels it. Instead of letting you go, his hands move to your back, encompassing you in his strong hold.

You gasp, wiggling in his grip, and he licks his lips. His eyes go to your lips, and then back up to your eyes, as if he’s hesitant.

“I-“ He begins, faltering. “Are you my girlfriend?”

You scoff out a laugh. “I don’t know, am I?”

“I hope so,” Jisung admits, his facial expression vulnerable. His eyes dart to something behind you, as if he’s not sure, almost shy. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him shy. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask, but I want you to be, if you want to be.”

“I want to be,” You nod. He nods in response, and you watch his eyes flicker to your lips again. It’s silent for a moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is more charged than usual. Before now, you’re used to chaste, fleeting kisses from your superhero, but now he lets his tongue tease against the seam of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, and his eyelashes brush against your skin where he does the same. You let your lips part, and Jisung’s quick to grip your back harder, tongue darting inside your mouth with impatience.

You’ve made out with someone before. You’d never had sex with someone before, but you had made out with someone. It was only once at a party when you were a little bit younger but it had felt like a good idea at the time. You’re sure Jisung’s lost his virginity though, but when he whimpers against your lips and his hips squirm a little you’re not too sure.

You pull away from the kiss, lips a little wet, and Jisung’s mouth goes to your neck. You allow him to suck a mark into the expanse of skin just underneath your jaw, his fingers grabbing impatiently at your back. “Sungie, are you a virgin?”

Jisung pulls away, licking his lips. You feel something hard pressing against your thigh where you lay on top of him. You’re thanking every entity ever that your parents are out for a work dinner. “Yeah, I am. I would have told you if I wasn’t,” He confirms, a little breathless. His hips wiggle again. “Is that- is that okay, baby?”

“Yeah, of course,” You smile, comforting. You peck his lips again and he grins back at you. “I am too.”

“I know,” He responds, quick as a flash. You blush. That’s embarrassing. “No, I just mean- you also would’ve told me, y’know?”

“That’s true,” You shrug. You’re feeling a little overconfident, and you move in his hold, having felt it gone a little lax with your kissing. You let your thighs spread over his hips, his hard shaft pressing against your core through your pyjama bottoms and his boxers. You still feel it, though, and it makes your pussy gush a little. “Is- is this okay?”

He’s blushing. His lips part, and he nods, perhaps too eagerly because he clutches his neck afterwards like he’s got whiplash. “Baby, you’re- I have a pretty girl in my lap. This is so okay. Like, so okay, I might have a heart attack and die, probably.”

You shift, and he winces. “Sorry,” You say. It’s a fake apology. You want to swallow his cock down your throat until he cries, and you don’t even know how to. You’d try your best though. “If I lost my virginity, I’d want it to be with you.”

“Damn,” Jisung whistles, eyebrows raised. “Let me hit?”

You giggle, tilting your head to the side. “I’ll let you hit right now, Jisung.”

Jisung shoots upwards into a seated position. His eyes are wide. “Right now?”

“Right now,” You confirm. You go from straddling his lap to laying on your back on your bed in a flash, and Jisung looms over you, all tight, toned muscles and broad shoulders.

“I’ll make it so good, baby, I promise,” He says, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s even messier this time, lips pressing against yours over and over and his tongue adding a collection of spit to the mix. You let your thighs fall apart, his hips quick to fill the space and press his cock against you. His hands go to your waist as he kisses you, sucking and biting on your lips until you’re whining with it, but he doesn’t let up. He’s desperate, messy, and it’s only making your pussy drool even more.

The rain hits the window still, cooling off a little but still providing a calming effect to your room when combined with the orange-pink of your lamp. He inches his palms up your shirt, the softness of his hands surprising you, and then he’s pulling away from your mouth to yank the fabric over your head.

You’re left in just your pyjama bottoms, lips kiss bitten and nipples pebbled against the cool air of your bedroom. You never had shut your window, after all.

“Oh,” Jisung says, exasperated. You finally open your eyes to see him staring at your tits, and you think he might be drooling. “Oh, yeah, my baby. They are so fucking good.”

You almost laugh, but you’re cut off by your own strangled moan when his pouty lips engulf your right nipple. He sucks on it, hard, and when your back arches he lets it slip out of his mouth with a wet popping noise. It’s only a brief moment of reprieve before he’s letting his teeth skim along the bud, and you keen, fingers moving upwards from his shoulders to grip onto the pillow behind your head.

“Oh, that’s so- Sungie, baby, that feels good,” You whine, and he hums against your breast. When he moves to the other one, he tweaks your wet nipple between two fingers. It’s experimental, but the whole thing is, and you buck your hips up impatiently.

His hands move to your ass, scooping underneath you and making you grind slightly against him. The movement makes him moan, your nipple leaving his mouth. A string of drool attaches to his lips and his tongue lolls out lazily, and before you can process it, he’s grinding his cock into your clothed centre.

“Oh- oh, fuck,” He whines, eyes clenching shut. You whimper in response, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Baby- baby, baby. Baby, I’ve thought about this so much, I- fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

His words are so crude that they make you keen, nodding enthusiastically. “I thought about it too. I- I touched myself thinking about it, Sungie, did you?”

He gasps sharply, and there’s a fumbling between your legs. He rocks backwards on his haunches, and you see him gripping his cock impatiently underneath his boxers, fingers wrapped tight around the base.

“I will literally cum if I imagine that,” He huffs, breathless. “But yes. I did, many times, and- and- baby, can I see your pussy?”

It’s so bold that you can’t say no. You never would have dreamed of saying no anyway, and you nod, wiggling your bottoms down your legs. You never wear a bra or panties underneath your pyjamas, and your pussy is revealed to him in all its drooly glory, folds sticking together with your arousal.

Jisung’s jaw goes slack. You watch him jerk his cock, eyes fixated on your wet hole, and you shift impatiently.

“I showed you mine, Sungie,” You huff. “Show me yours.”

He nods, eyes still glued to your pussy. Your clit is swollen with arousal, some wetness stuck onto it, and you reach down to trace your fingertips over it absentmindedly while he pushes his boxers down. His cock slaps up against the bottom of his tummy, cockhead leaking beneath his foreskin, precum slicking the smattering of hair at his base. His balls look heavy, shaft swollen and fat between lithe thighs, and you can’t help but go a little googly eyed at the thought of him stretching you out.

He grabs it, pumps his cock a few times while you rub your fingers over your clit. “Is- is it okay, baby?” He gasps, cock leaking steadily in his fist.

“You’re so sexy, Sungie, ‘s so big. I- oh,” You whine, spreading your arousal over your folds. You prop your feet up, letting your legs fall wide, and the movement must expose your soppy hole to Jisung because his eyes widen even further. “I want you inside of me so bad. I’ve wanted it for so long, I just- shit, Jisung, what are you-“

You’re cut off by him diving between your legs. His cock is forgotten, his hands looping around your ass again to spread you wide, and his tongue presses against your core. He moans at the taste, and you whimper out loud, head rolling against your pillow. It’s messy and you can tell he’s inexperienced, but when he sucks your clit between his lips you can’t find it in you to care.

“Oh, oh- baby, baby! You’re good at that, so good at that, baby,” You babble, trying your best not to grind up into his mouth. His mouth is just as wet as your pussy, his lips drooling all over you. You’re cut short when he flattens his tongue against your core, moaning out loud, and his hands move your ass just a bit. “I- you- Sungie-?”

“Grind on my face, baby, c’mon,” He murmurs, muffled by your folds, and you oblige. Your hand goes to his hair, yanking on the dark brown strands, and you hold him in place while you grind your pussy senseless on his tongue. Your boy is good with his mouth, you realise - he’s pliant, letting you make yourself cum on his tongue and lips, and after only a few grinds you’re sure you’re going to fall apart for him.

“Ah! Ah, oh, baby, your mouth is- Sungie, Sungie,” You whine, feet kicking on the bed. Your legs go flat, but as the pleasure builds up in your core, your thighs tighten around his ears. He likes this, moaning loud to the point the vibrations make you jolt. It’s all so wet, your pussy dripping with arousal and his saliva, dripping down to your asshole. It has you wondering if Jisung would eat your ass further down the line, and your eyes flicker to his - would he let you eat his? He probably would, with how submissive he’s being.

His hips buck downwards on the bed and he keens into your pussy, and you realise he’s humping your mattress. He’s so desperate for you that he just can’t help himself, and you moan, loud and unabashed. The sight has you hurtling towards your orgasm.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, baby,” You warn, and he finally lets up, pulling back to suck on your clit. His hand moves over to the top of your pussy, pulling your mound backwards, and the exposure of your clit directly to his lips is your downfall. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth, and you can hear yourself talking and moaning but you’re not sure what you’re saying, only able to feel your hole gushing into Jisung’s mouth over and over.

Jisung licks over your clit a few times comfortingly, and then he’s on top of you again, face looming over yours. His right hand holds him up steadily and the other stays downwards, hooked on your thigh to keep you open.

“You taste delicious, baby,” He grins, mouth wet. When he presses his lips to yours he’s desperate, tongue darting into your mouth to let you taste your own cum. You let your hands fall to his chest, fingernails digging into the muscles. The filthiness of it all has you wriggling around impatiently again, and Jisung’s cockhead slips against your clit, making you whine into his mouth. He pulls away, gasping for air with the sensation, and you kiss the beauty spot on his cheek for good measure. “Baby. M-my baby, shit, can- can I fuck you now? Have you got a condom, I- shit, I need to fuck you?”

He’s breathless, giggling at his own desperation, and you nod eagerly. You’re on the pill, and realistically you’d want nothing more than him to creampie you, but you have a shred of logic still left in your brain. “No condom. I- I don’t have any, can you pull out? I know it’s not-“

“Don’t care,” He huffs, legs moving to prop himself up more securely. His knees dig into your bed, and he pulls your thigh further apart, letting his eyes fall down to your pussy. His face is more than pornographic when he sees the visual of his cockhead sliding through your folds, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. He lets his eyes flutter shut, a small profanity leaving his mouth. “You’re sure I can fuck you raw? I- please, p-please, baby. I need to be inside.”

“Jisung,” You whine. He lets his tip bump against your clit again, and you grow too desperate, reaching down yourself to grab his cock. The feeling makes him whimper, his fingers ripping into the pillow beside your head with his superhuman strength, but you’re too out of it to care. You position his cock by your hole, soppy and wet with your own cum, and he can’t hold himself back - he pushes in, all of it at once, a long, anguished noise leaving his mouth. “Oh. Oh- Oh, Jisung, that’s-“

“Is it okay? Are you okay?” Jisung asks, breathless. “Does it hurt? I- baby, baby-“

He’s still completely stationary, but he can’t stop talking, chest heaving and flushed pink. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt. You’re wet enough that he glided in so easy, stretching your pussy in the most pleasurable, delicious way. You didn’t think it would ever feel this good, but you’re sure it’s because it’s Jisung.

“God, is it- does it feel good?” He questions you, and you nod eagerly, hands moving to rest on his biceps. He repositions you both so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, his arms holding himself up over you, and the movement has him sliding deeper, making you whimper. “Can I-“

“Fucking hell, Jisung, can you just move?” You huff, annoyed, and he giggles. He shakes his head fondly, and then he’s thrusting into you, slow but steady.

“Oh, that’s good,” He slurs, eyes rolling back into his head. “That pussy’s good. Jesus, you’re- you’re tight on my cock, baby, like a fuckin’ vice.”

“Your cock is so good,” You whine, trying to fuck yourself back on him. Your pussy is so wet that every thrust makes an audible noise, ringing throughout your room. If anyone walked past now they’d hear the debauchery, and you’re not sure you’d even care. “Fuck, Jisung- Jisung, you’re big. Please, please, more, I need more!”

“Okay, okay,” He moans, and then his hips speed up. His balls slap against your asshole with every thrust, his cock pistoning into you at a pace that has you wailing. The headboard slams against the wall. “Oh, fuckin’- baby, this puusssy.”

“It feels so good. Your cock is stretching me out so good, baby-“

“Fuck, wait,” He whines, pulling out sharply. When you look down between his legs his cock is painfully hard, and his pubic hair is drenched with you. The sight makes you even more eager to get him back inside of you, but Jisung grabs the base of his cock tightly, his chest heaving. “I- I’ll cum if you talk like that. Fuck, this is so embarrassing!”

“I want you to cum,” You insist, leaning up on your elbows. Your pussy is still leaking steadily onto your bedsheets, and you make grabby hands at your boy to try and get him back inside of you. “You made me cum so good in your mouth, Sungie, c’mon. Make yourself cum with my pussy.”

“Oh my God,” He moans, eyes half lidded, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re dirty. My fucking dream, holy shit.”

He leans over you once more, pushing his cock inside of you. It slides back in easily with another wet noise, and you moan, smiling with delight. “Mm, fuck this pussy, baby, c’mon.”

“I- fuck, okay,” He keens, nodding. His teeth bite into his lower lip almost painfully, and you kiss his neck while he starts to fuck into you again. With a quick reposition you let your thighs fall apart and further back, and his cock starts to hit your g-spot incessantly. He pulls away from you, head lolling into your neck. His breaths fan over your skin, hot and heavy. “You’re so wet, why are you- how are you so wet, baby? This pussy, fucking- I’m gonna cum. I’m so close, I’m so close, please-“

The shred of logic has left your brain. His cock feels so good, thick and pressing inside of you. You have to let him do it. “Baby. Baby, do y’wanna- I’m on the pill, baby,” You say, breathless. His pace stops, hips halting, and he makes a confused noise. “Cum inside. Creampie this hole, Sungie, I know you want to.”

“Oh my fucking- baby? My baby, can I?” He wails, head pulling up to look at you. You catch sight of tears brewing in his eyes, glassy and unshed. “Baby, please, I’m gonna cum, please, where-? Baby?”

“Inside of me, Sungie,” You wrap your legs around him, pulling him inside of you, deep. You know he could get out of it if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, hips starting to pick up inside of you again. It’s fast, desperate and he keens, nodding. “You gonna fill me up, yeah?”

“Yeah. Y-yeah, yes, oh- I’m gonna fill you up,” Jisung’s words are slurred, quiet, and you let him fuck into you over and over. With a sharp noise, his hips slow once more, and you feel a rush of additional wetness inside of you. It’s warm, and you run your fingers through his hair while he fucks his cum inside of you. “Fuck. Baby, you’re so good to me, so good. Lettin’ me breed your cunt, and- and- oh. I’m still-“

He’s still cumming. It floods out of his cock and into your pussy steadily, and you giggle, feeling sated. Your delighted state of mind only lasts a second, because he pulls out sharply and wiggles down on the bed, attaching his mouth to your cunt. He’s eating his own cum out of you.

“Oh! Oh, Jisung, you’re- you’re dirty, Sungie, ah-“ You whine, fingers moving to his hair again. He licks you over and over until you’re wailing with it, your own tears brimming in your eyes from the overstimulation. Your hole feels stretched, a feeling you’re sure you could get used to, and you shake through a second orgasm.

Jisung’s quick to lean over you again, and then his thumb moves to your chin. He opens your mouth firmly, spitting your combined release into your mouth, and you moan, letting him press his tongue between your lips afterwards.

It’s messy and you let him kiss you for a bit, slow, languid, passionate kisses that have your core almost throbbing for more, if you weren’t so satisfied. Jisung’s soft cock presses against your tummy, wet with your combined arousal, and then he flops down next to you with a huff.

“God, I could go again,” He admits, hand running through his sweat mussed hair. When you turn to him, he’s grinning from ear to ear, and you giggle. He looks at you with a satisfied expression. “You’re the best. That was literally like, the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Even more than when I win some fight against an alien, or something.”

“Alien?” You ask, and then you remember. “Oh, yeah. Kinda forgot about that.”

“You forgot about me saving your life?!” He shrieks, thrashing around on the bed in a tantrum. “Seriously, if I wasn’t in love with you I would- ah. Oh.”

You blanch, blinking at him. It’s easy to ignore that you’re both naked when he’s just dropped a bombshell on you like that, and you let out a giggle. “That was sweet. I’m in love with you too, for the record.”

You’re attacked in a flurry of kisses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re sure Han Jisung intrigues you just as much as his superhero alterego does, so it’s easy to accept.

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heirofnight · 17 days

Text

it's the shadows

pairing: azriel x reader (heavily), cassian x reader, rhysand x reader

word count: 1.2k (i intended for this to be a drabble but i can't ever shut the hell up)

summary: reader is close friends with az, cass, and rhys, but is very obviously pining for azriel. the four of you are drunk and cassian just has to know which one of them would be the best in bed. sexual tension ensues. duh.

while this entire debate was absolutely ridiculous - one may argue even downright childish - you couldn't stop the grin that was spreading across your cheeks.

you couldn't remember the last time you'd laughed this hard. your stomach was aching, cheeks sore. dried tears were collecting at the corners of your eyes. there'd be a lull in the conversation, a period of time that allowed all of you to calm down and collect yourselves, before you'd inevitably meet one of their mischievous gazes and fits of laughter would begin all over again.

"seriously, y/n?," cassian inquired, voice booming. you snorted at his dumbfounded expression, at the fact that the four of you had finally calmed down, just for cass to loop back to the topic that had you all howling in laughter in the first place.

"azriel?," he continued, pointer finger gesturing towards the male sitting opposite from you in the sitting room. cassian had a half-full wine glass in his large hand, the liquid sloshing around precariously as he motioned in the shadowsinger's direction. "the motherfucker doesn't even speak!," he finished, causing you to erupt in another alcohol-induced fit of giggles.

azriel smiled warmly at the sight, shaking his head in mock exasperation at his brother's disbelief. az took a sip from the glass of wine he'd been nursing at a much slower pace compared to the rest of you.

rhys chuckled now, sitting alongside cassian on the plush sofa. he shoved the war general on his broad shoulder playfully, gesturing towards azriel himself, "he doesn't need to speak in this particular scenario, brother," he purred, his own wine sloshing within his grip.

azriel's cheeks tinted red at the implication, shifting his gaze down to his lap to hide a dimpled smirk.

"and see, that's what i'm saying," you added, throwing your hands up in agreement. you sat on the floor, upon the cushioned carpet that spread throughout the sitting room. you glanced up at azriel, a fond smile playing across your lips as you met his bashful gaze.

"he doesn't need to use words, cassian. i stand by my original statement: azriel is absolutely the most capable male in bed out of the three of you," you couldn't even finish the sentence without giggling, awestruck at cassian's ability to always turn the conversation back to this topic in particular.

you'd been close to all three of them for so long, and cassian - with his overly-competitive nature - just had to know, from a female's perspective, which male you thought would be the best in the bedroom. even though your answer was always the same: azriel.

was it because you may have been harboring feelings for the aforementioned male? perhaps. however, you didn't need to be pining after him to come to that conclusion; it felt like the obvious choice, regardless.

azriel glanced over at you with silent pride flooding his gaze, and you winked at him playfully in response. "i've got your back, az," you slurred, alcohol heavy in your veins. you reached over to poke him in the kneecap gently, and he huffed out a laugh.

"thank you, sweet," he spoke, tone gravelly, and you felt your chest grow fuzzy at the nickname he reserved just for you.

"oh, come ON," cassian scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. rhys barked out a laugh, tossing his head back against the headrest of the quilted couch.

you laughed along with rhys, sitting closer to azriel's legs now. az reached down, smoothing a section of your hair that had grown disheveled during your laughing fits throughout the evening. you were hyper-aware of his touch, and currants of electricity shot down your spine as the contact mixed with the wine in your system.

"i'm going to go out on a limb here," cassian started, pausing to take a sip from his glass. you rolled your eyes, bracing yourself for the familiar statement preparing to spill from his lips. "and i'm going to say that your opinion on this particular topic is heavily biased," he finished, knowing hazel eyes glancing from you, up to azriel, and back down to you.

you groaned in mock annoyance, flipping your hand in a dismissive gesture.

"yeah, yeah, cass, i know," you huffed out a breath, narrowing your eyes, "you're so convinced that i want to be in azriel's bed," you finished, pausing for dramatic effect before speaking further. cassian scoffed, his eyes widening slightly as if to say duh.

the alcohol was making you feel bolder than normal, and honestly, it's not like you were completely shy about your attraction towards azriel. it was a commonly known fact, one that all of you tended to play into from time to time - an inside joke, a bit.

however, while the attraction was known, you'd never confessed to any of them your very real feelings for azriel. that aspect wasn't a joke to you in the slightest.

"it's the shadows," you deadpanned, shrugging your shoulders sloppily.

cassian and rhys paused for a moment, absorbing your statement. then, they both erupted into howling laughter, and you weren't far behind them. you heard azriel's low chuckle from where he sat behind you, and he sent one of those mentioned shadows from within his twining orbit to twirl through your hair playfully.

cassian collected himself, shaking his head as he wiped his eyes.

"what kind of shit are you into, y/n?," cass wheezed out, and rhys laughed harder at his follow-up question.

you sniffled, wiping your own eyes before responding, "i mean, you really cannot blame me," you mused, gesturing towards azriel once more, "have you really not stopped to consider this at all?," you widened your eyes, stunned.

as if to prove a point, you turned your head towards azriel, locking your curious eyes with his amused ones.

"azriel, have you or have you not used your shadows on someone during sex?," you asked, extremely forward.

he almost choked at the question, cheeks turning crimson. cassian and rhys resumed their howling, but you peered at him expectantly.

he couldn't deny you an answer, not when you looked at him like that - innocent-looking wide eyes, cheeks pink from the wine. and was there a large, screaming part of him that wanted to entice you with his bedroom habits?

perhaps.

he nodded once, a dimpled smirk appearing across his pink cheeks.

"i have," he spoke, deep voice cutting through the laughter.

everyone paused at his words - you'd all half-expected him to evade the question altogether. but here he was, divulging life-altering, world-ending information that had your brain short-circuiting in one fatal blow.

the silence was deafeningly loud, and your expression shifted in a way that had azriel knowing exactly what you were thinking. your eyes had widened and glossed over, your mouth was agape. his smirk grew, forming into something more playful.

and to prove his point, he sent one more shadow your way to lightly twirl through your fingers and caress up your arm, looping around your neck gently.

cass sent a low whistle into the dead silence of the room, croaking out a laugh. "well, fuck, az," he chuckled, downing the rest of his drink.

"you win," cassian added, awestruck - shaking his head in defeat.

you didn't even hear what was happening around you, too focused on azriel - his darkened gaze as he peered down at you, and the feeling of that tendril of shadow tightening around your throat in silent challenge.

a/n: i'm so sorry. i'm spamming u with all of these ideas but hear me out, i have to get them out immediately. pls don't hate me. but this one had me sweating lmfao. sucker for sexual tension as always!!!

#azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fic #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel drabble #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

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aziraphale-is-a-cat · 1 year

Text

DPxDC Warlock Batfamily

They're not warlocks in the traditional sense, no fancy spell work or obvious theming. In fact, most anyone less magically attune than John would just assume they were metas like anyone else on the team, but they weren't.

It took a while to notice, just passing off the magical fluctuations around them as the ebb and flow of the natural world, or maybe some residual curse vibes from Gotham (ew). But it was too consistent. When Batman slipped into the shadows it pulsed, and when Oracle seized control of nearby computers it surged. When Nightwing took his inhuman leaps into the air simply trusting that he would reach his lading point it soared and when that nightmare of a Robin brought a room to darkness it rested like a heavy weight on his shoulders.

They weren't individual users, their eclectically cohesive group structure was too uniform for that; but they weren't some family of sorcerers either, being quite obviously unrelated by blood save for a few. The most likely answer was that they were all warlocks in service to some common diety, taking on aspects of its power to enforce it's will upon the mortal world- and John really hoped it was a helpful entity, because they were in deep shit.

Peeling the partially liquefied tentacle off from across his chest, Constantine sat up and brought his hand up to cup his bruised face. He prayed to whatever was least likely to hold a grudge that their little hail Mary there had bought them enough time to perform a summoning.

"Hey Bat, get your patron on the phone, this is getting fucking Eldritch."

"What the hell are you talking about," Hal Jordan pushed himself out of the rubble with a massive green fist construct. "Bats isn't a magic user."

"Hm." Batman grunted as he picked bone shards out of his gauntlets. "I'll need to get something for the ritual."

Everyone present sat up to look at him like he'd grown another head, except Superman and Wonder Woman who seemed a little excited.

"I'm sorry, you're a magician?" The Flash pipes up from behind the ruins of an old altar, only to receive a level glare from his black clad coworker.

"Warlock."

"Oh."

Constantine grabbed onto some chains hanging from the precariously damaged ceiling, rising to his feet. "We don't have much time; that thing's off licking its wounds in space or something, but it'll be back. You go off and collect whatever artefact you have from wherever you hid it and I'll start drawing the circle, where are we pulling your Patron from?"

Batman nodded in agreement. "The Infinite Realms."

"Fucking Hell."

The Watch Tower was crowded when Batman returned flanked by two other members for his little hero coven, carrying a small case decorated with constellations and nebulae.

Wonder Woman stepped up to look at the container, obviously curious, but not touching it.

"It will be wonderful to see him again, Batman. After this is dealt with I hope to hear the tales of my sisters from beyond."

"He'll definitely be happy to chat after we're done," Nightwing commented. "I hear he's been training with Pandora."

Red Robin nodded to that, an exasperated look on his face as he likely anticipated a long and drawn out conversation about different kinds of swords. Amazons liked their blades.

John gave that idea some concideration, Amazonian ghosts probably get up to some killer fights without having to worry about, ya know, death. He called out to the Dark Knight, "I've got the circle done, now we just need your call."

The three of them walk over to the summoning circle unceremoniously carved into the watch tower floor, Batman narrowing his eyes at the damaged paneling but saying nothing otherwise. The Dark Knight opens the case in his hands and pulls out what appears to be a small model space station.

The Coven spread themselves evenly around the circumference of the circle and Batman begins the ritual. "Salve patrōnem, egō stellam vocō." He throws the model space station into the circle where it appeared to float as the symbols in the ground lit up.

Slowly, a figure formed in the center, first as hands holding the model and spreading out over its arms and to its body in the shape of a young boy. He seemed to be wearing a black rubber hazmat suit with white accents and green lichtenberg figures crawling up his left arm. White hair appeared and with it piercing green eyes that seemed to be fixed on the toy in his hands. A cape flowed out behind him less like fabric and more like the endless void of space littered with stars and a cold weight settled on the room.

"Damn B, y'all really fucked up the floor this time."

Red Robin snorted, "Nice to see you too, Danny."

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny fenton #dcxdp #red robin #nightwing #batman #justice league #john constantine #watch tower #summoning #patron god au #writing prompt #dpxdc writing prompt #dcxdp writing prompt

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bodybaggage · 20 days

Text

Oh, It’s On!

DP X DC

Ensue the prank war…

---

It all started with a simple question posed by Dick as he lounged on the Batcave’s most uncomfortable piece of furniture, which he affectionately called "the Bat-Stone."

“So, has anyone actually tested the limits of Danny’s ghost powers?”

Tim looked up from his laptop, always the first to take a bait. “You mean, besides the constant intangible phase he does to avoid Damian’s batarangs?”

Stephanie, who was tending to her bo-staff but was actually poking Cass with the end of it—grinned. “I’m in. If nothing else, we’ll get some decent entertainment. Better than watching Bruce brood in the dark.”

Cass, normally the least likely to engage in such activities, simply tilted her head with a curious look that might have been interpreted as a quiet agreement. She might not speak often, but Cass had developed a taste for subtle chaos.

Jason cracked his knuckles with a smirk. “Sounds like a good way to pass the time. And besides, I’m bored.”

Danny, floating into the room with a glow of mild suspicion, was not as oblivious as they might have hoped. “You guys aren’t planning anything, are you?”

Dick waved a hand dismissively. “Us? Plan something? Come on, Danny, we’re innocent.”

Danny gave him a deadpan stare. “That’s literally the opposite of what you are.”

The challenge was set, and everyone knew it. But Danny, being the ghostly trickster he was, didn’t wait to be pranked first. He struck with precision.

---

The first inkling that things were amiss came when the Batmobiles began moving on their own. Jason was the first to notice, his usual vehicle—a sleek, red tank of a motorcycle—had rolled up to him as if it were a loyal dog wanting to go for a walk.

“Alright, who’s messing with my ride?” Jason demanded, but the vehicle simply honked twice in response, the sound oddly cheerful.

“It’s not me!” Tim called from across the cave, where his own ride had begun circling him like a shark. “I swear, I’m not touching anything!”

Danny floated nearby, feigning innocence with an expression that screamed, I totally did this. “You sure your cars aren’t just excited to see you?”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “This is war, ghost boy.”

---

The Batcave, typically a place of stoic professionalism, had devolved into a battleground of pranks. Stephanie had rigged Danny’s usual hangout spot with a pop-up scarecrow (it looked suspiciously like Scarecrow, but with a clown wig) that would jump out at him whenever he tried to sit down.

The trap backfired spectacularly when Danny phased through the seat, sending the scarecrow careening into Cass, who simply caught it midair with one hand and set it down gently. Without saying a word, she gave Stephanie a look that said, ‘Nice try, but no.’

“Okay, point to Danny,” Stephanie conceded, wiping away tears of laughter.

In retaliation, Danny decided to step up his game. The next morning, Alfred calmly entered the Batcave with a tray of tea, his hair glowing an eternal green. Not a word about the change, not even a glance in the mirror—Alfred was far too professional for that.

Bruce, however, did notice. “Alfred, did you do something... different with your hair?”

Alfred, ever unflappable, set down the tea tray. “Just trying out a new look, Master Wayne. I believe it’s quite... refreshing.”

Bruce nodded slowly, not entirely sure if Alfred was joking. “It’s very... unique.”

Danny had to leave the room, barely containing his laughter. The dry humor had struck a chord, even with the ghost kid.

---

As the prank war escalated, it became harder to tell who was pranking who. Jason found his helmet filled with ectoplasm, while Tim’s gadgets began mysteriously glitching out, causing them to display random memes whenever he tried to access files.

Stephanie set up a system of water balloons throughout the cave, each strategically placed to drench whoever activated the trap. The grand finale was a large balloon precariously perched above the entrance, ready to douse the first unlucky victim.

Unfortunately for Damian, who had been staunchly standing next to Bruce to avoid any involvement in the chaos, his loyalty did not save him.

“I am not a part of this, Father,” Damian declared, stepping slightly closer to Bruce.

A soft ‘click’ echoed in the cave, followed by a loud splash as the massive water balloon above exploded, soaking Damian from head to toe.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Damian, I thought you said you weren’t part of this.”

“I am not!” Damian insisted, dripping onto the Batcave floor. He glared at the ceiling as if it had personally offended him. “This was not intended for me.”

Danny appeared next to him, intangible and dry. “I guess the water balloon had other plans.”

Jason, Tim, Stephanie, and Dick burst into laughter, while Cass allowed herself a rare smile. Even Bruce couldn’t hold back the faintest twitch of his lips.

---

The chaos continued throughout the day, culminating in a final showdown where Danny—now fully embracing his role as master prankster—made every Bat-Suit in the Batcave walk out of their cases and perform the ‘Michael Jackson’s Thriller’ dance.

Bruce had walked in just in time to see his most serious suit do the moonwalk.

“That’s it,” Bruce declared, finally done with the madness. “No more pranks in the Batcave.”

But as he said it, his own suit’s visor flipped up to reveal a pair of glowing green eyes that winked at him before going dark.

Danny’s laugh echoed through the cave. “You’re gonna have to catch me first, Bats!”

Bruce sighed again, mentally preparing himself for the next round. It seemed that in the Batcave, chaos would always have a ghostly signature.

#dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc

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cherryredcheol · 2 months

Text

"dumpling"

tldr: all the ways jun uses your nickname a/n: i love him so bad. i've been waiting to post this forever.

slobbers: around a mouthful of food

“dumpling,” he sprays it, more than says it, but you look at him nonetheless. your chopsticks paused midair, a clump of noodles hanging precariously over the rug; the rug you’d picked out together for your new living room. he liked this rug, but the one in your new bedroom was his favorite.

“this is going to be fun. living with you, i mean. it’ll be a good time.” he stumbled over his words, overwhelmed with feeling but unable to express it. you seemed to get the point, smiling wide as you opened your mouth to slurp your noodles. he meant it too, this first night in your shared place together was just the start of, what he hoped would be, an amazing adventure.

‘i love you, dumpling.” he smiled at you, confident you felt the same even if you hadn’t nodded in agreement enthusiastically at his words, cheeks still too full of lo mein to give a proper response to his soft words. as he watched you swallow your dinner, he leaned closer, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek, “you’ve got sauce on your face.”

taunts: when he’s winning a game

“dumpling” your head whips around, hearing his sing-songy voice from the darkness ahead. or was it behind? you can’t tell. this wing of the hybe building was dark at this time of night and it had been his wonderful idea to play hide and seek…in the dark. and now he was hiding somewhere in a building you aren’t that familiar with, tormenting you from the safety of said darkness.

“i see you…” you whipped around again, aiming your phone flashlight at the dark corner of the conference room. were those footsteps you heard? how is he so quiet? maybe you should put a collar with a little bell on him, one to match your cat at home. lost in thought, you almost miss the movement against the wall. turning quickly, you brandish your flashlight.

“ah! my eyes!” his hand goes up, protecting his pupils from the bright light in an entirely dark room. you hold the flashlight in place, pleased to see him struggle after he tormented you with this little chase around the dark halls of hybe. plus, you were scared if it was dark again, he’d slink off somewhere else and the game would start all over. he waved the hand not covering his eyes at you, “put that thing down, and let's go home. i’ll give you your prize for winning…”

cackles: at your expense

“dumpling!” he barked out in a laugh. you grabbed quickly for a napkin to dab the steaming broth off your cheeks. you two were out on a hotpot date and you had slurped your noodles a little too hard causing hot, spicy soup to splash across your face. you were not hurt, just embarrassed, especially as he continued to laugh at your fumble. it even splattered onto your cute top.

“are you okay?” he giggled even as he asked this, passing you another napkin to get the sprinkle off your forehead. you took the napkin, but not without pouting at him, hoping to garner some sympathy. He laughed harder, making your pout into a full-blown frown, something he never wanted to see, especially if he caused it.

“i’m sorry, dumpling. are you alright?” he reached for your hand across the table, offering some comfort to you, easing the embarrassment you felt. feeling your hand wrapped up in his did make you feel better. and the broth wasn’t that hot. maybe the pouting wasn’t necessary. his caring demeanor broke as he let out another giggle, “you’re just so cute, dumpling!”

calls out: while dead asleep

“dumpling~” you’re only half awake when you hear it. his back was pressed to yours and you had assumed he was asleep. he’d had a long day and had basically passed out as soon as you two had gone to bed. you’d stayed up and played on your phone for a little while before settling down yourself.

“dumpling~” you heard it again, clearer this time and more whiny. this time you rolled over, your front now pressed to his back. you debated waking him up, knowing he had to be up early for his schedule, but when he called out a third time, your debate ended. shaking him lightly you woke him up.

“what’s going on? are you okay?” he was confused as to why you had woken him up, assuming something must be wrong. he was still half-asleep so he only half understood when you explained to him he’s been calling out to you in his sleep. you were just about to ask if he was having a bad dream when you were cut off by his stomach rumbling, “i think i’m just hungry, dumpling.”

whoops: when he’s proud of you

“dumpling!” he shot up from the couch as soon as he saw ‘winner’ flash across your half of the screen. you’d been in an intense mario kart tournament with wonwoo and you had just won the final race, winning the whole thing in a completely unexpected upset. the rest of the boys stared at the screen, a little shocked at the result.

“i knew you could do it!” he folded you into a bone-crushing hug, celebrating like you’d just won gold at the olympics instead of some silly video game. but he was proud of you and wanted you to know it. he pulled back to look at your face, a smile stretching across his entire face. he pulled you back into his arms, relishing in your victory.

“i’m so proud of you,” he whispered in your ear, causing your cheeks to heat up, bashful about his confession in the room full of people, despite that it was said for only you to hear. he pulled you out of the hug for real this time, and planted a soft kiss on your cheek, deepening your blush. “wonwoo, since you lost, you have to fund our next date.”

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #svt #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #junhui x reader #moon junhui #wen junhui #jun imagines #junhui imagine #junhui #jun seventeen

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purplesuitcowboy · 4 days

Text

cw: dubious consent, fauxcest, double penetration, free use

"I don't have any cash on me," her step-father, Thomas, told the frazzled young man at the cash register.

"But, I have this,” he said. He jostled the young women who stood beside him for emphasis. Quinn offered up weak protest from behind the ball gang in her mouth. She hated when he did shit like this. Ever since he’d figured out that she’s dabbled in selling nudes online, how he was able to tell if was her when she hadn’t even shown her face was beyond her, he’d been strong arming her into all sorts of shit under the threat of disclosing her little business endeavor to her mother.

Her mother had always been a bit of a prude and if she found out, Quinn would be kicked out of the house for sure and her sizable inheritance would be reduced to 0. She was sure that she could find a place to stay if she got kicked out but losing out on her inheritance was simply not an option. She gone along with his demands which had started as head in the parking lot of his job and had quickly ballooned out of proportion from there.

As it turned out, Thomas was a bit of a kinky bastard but he couldn’t live out his fantasies with her mother so he used her instead. Quinn was almost positive that Thomas preferred it that way. Even before their little agreement, he’d always told her that she had a body built of sex and that she’d make a man very happy one day. This had been very, very weird then but she had ignored it. He made her mother so happy that Quinn had just written off his comments as personality quirks. They hadn’t been. They were the truest expressions of his wishes and desires.

In a sick way, she was perfect for him. She was just as much as a freak as she was, got just as turned on by their slinking around as he did. She just had the good sense to be ashamed and embarrassed by it. Quinn tried not to think about the fact that she was helping her step-father cheat on her mother. Surely, finding out that this had been happening behind her back was worse then Quinn selling her nudes online. Either way, she was a coward because she said nothing and continued fucking her mother’s husband.

Quinn was trapped between her step-father’s bulk and the edge of the counter. Already, she could feel the beginnings of his hard on against her ass. Thomas held her tightly, securing her arms behind her back. He pushed her towards the counter, forcing her to lean awkwardly over it. The precarious position highlighted her generous bust which was barely being contained by her the low neckline of her short dress. Her hardened nipples could be easily seen through the thin material. She briefly made eye contact with the cashier but quickly averted her gaze, deeply embarrassed by the situation. Despite her embarrassment and shame, she feel heat begin too bloom between her legs as she felt the cashiers eyes on her tits. She didn’t have to see his face to know that he liked what he saw. In her minds eye, she could already imagine these men sharing her body, fucking her holes and filling her with their cum. She shifted, rubbing her thighs together.

"Oh, I'm not sure I can..I don't, uh,..."

"Come on," he paused, squinting at the young man's name tag. "Gordon? Damn, what did your parents give you an old man name like that for? Anyway, you're gonna pass up a fuck with a pretty young thing like my stepdaughter here. You like girls don't you, son?"

The young man nodded, rendered completely speechless by the situation. He saw a lot of weird shit during his shifts at the convenience store -especially during the late shift- but this was really taking the cake. He thought that the pair were odd when they walked in but he hadn’t thought much of it until they’d gotten to the counter.

"Well then give 'em a feel,” the old man jeered. “You're gonna make her feel bad if you don't. You're gonna make her think somethings wrong with her tits. You don't want that do you."

Thomas pulled down the top of Quinn’s dress, freeing her tits from their confines. Roughly, he grabbed one of her breasts, massaging it with his hand. Quinn whimpered in response. With Thomas’s grip on her loosened, she freed one of her arms and used it to prop herself up on the counter. Hesitantly, the cashier reached forward to gently fondle one of Quinn’s tits.

“Come on, kid!” Thomas exclaimed. “Grab it like you mean it. None of that pussy shit now.”

The cashier nodded and with renewed vigor, grabbed Quinn’s breasts, kneading them with his hands. Her eyes fluttered shut and she seemed to push her tits out as if offering herself up to him. The edge of the counter dug into her hip but she barely noticed. Gordon could feel his dick harden against his thigh as he fondled her. Her skin was soft beneath his finger tips, and her nipples were red and rosy like the cherry on top of an ice cream sunday. Looking at them, at her, made his mouth water. Emboldened, he leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking it and rolling it with his tongue. Quinn moaned, drool gathering on the ball gag and dripping down her chin to her chest. Thomas watched as the cashier lavished Quinn’s tits with attention. He slipped a hand between her thighs, fingers gently rubbing against her slick folds. He loved have easy access to her pussy so she rarely wore panties around him. Another whine escaped Quinn’s lips as she tried to rock her cunt against his fingers.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you baby. Your little pussy is so wet,” he told her, voice almost loving.

He plunged two fingers into her cunt, slowly pumping them in and out. His hand was quickly covered in her juices as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, first one and then two and three. Gordon paused his ministrations and cocked his head to the side, watching enrapt as the older man fingered Quinn’s cunt. His fingers were shiny with her juices as he pumped them in and out of her hole. With every attempt to pull out, Gordon could see the walls of her cunt tightly clenched around his fingers, seemingly unwilling to let them leave the hot, wet channel. If Gordon had any blood left in his body, it had all rushed to his cock. It throbbed painfully in his shorts begging for attention. He’d been hard for a while but it was becoming almost unbearable. He let go of Quinn’s tits and pushed her out of the way so he could hop the counter to join them on the other side. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Thomas stopped finger fucking Quinn’s pussy to watch the cashier volt over the counter to join them. He took a step back and, tugging at her hip with a wet hand, pulled her back to give the young man room to stand.

Eagerly, Quinn leaned towards the cashier. She braced herself on him, holding onto his hip with one hand. With her other hand, she pulled down the zip of his shorts and pulled out his harden cock. Her eyes widened as she admired its size and thickness. The cashier reached for the ball gag, pulling it out of her mouth. Her eyes locked onto his, she took his thumb into her mouth, running her hot tongue along the tip and sucking on it lightly.

“Fuck” the cashier said, breathless.

Dutifully, Quinn took his cock into her mouth. The cashier groaned, as his cock was enveloped by the wet, heat of Quinn’s mouth. She took him deep until the head of his cock tapped the back of her throat. Her eyes watered but she didn’t gag, instead, she breathed heavily out of her nose trying to steady her breathing.

“Atta girl,” Thomas told her. “Show him how well I’ve trained you. Fuck her throat, son. Don’t worry. She can take it.”

She seemed to gurgle something in the affirmative. He placed his hands on the top of her head and steadily began to fuck her throat. Thomas was right. Quinn forced herself to relax and use her. After a couple of thrust, she pulled her head away, gasping for breath, before she took his cock back in her mouth. As she serviced the cashiers cock, Thomas helped himself to her pussy. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Giving himself a few strokes, he lined himself up with her cunt. He rubbed his shaft against the lips of her pussy, coating himself in her juices, before he slowly began to push his thick cock into her waiting hole. It didn’t seem to matter how much he fucked her, her cunt felt as tight as it had the first time that he’d had her. He groaned as pushed inch after inch into her cunt until he was seated to the hilt. The two men quickly found a good rhythm using her body, one pulling out while the other pushed in and vise versa.

Adjusting her hold on Gordon, Quinn steadied herself on one hand so she could slip the other between her legs to rub at her tender clit. It didn’t take long before she was writhing and cumming on Thomas’s cock. As she came, her cunt tightened around his shaft and Thomas quickly found himself emptying his load into her cunt. Gordon came soon after. He tried to pull out of Quinn’s mouth to cum on her chest but she held him tight forcing him to cum into her mouth. He pulled out of her lips and she opened her mouth, showing him his load on her tongue before she swallowed.

“You’re not done are you?” she asked, looking up at the cashier with big doe eyes.

The cashier looked down at her, a look of awe on his face. Surely, she was a succubus or some other worldly being. He’d never met a woman with the sexual appetite this one seemed to. He worried that she would suck his soul out of his cock and that he would happily let her do it. Sharing her with her stepfather was a bit strange, but he’d cum so hard it hardly seemed to matter at that point as long as he got to fuck her again. Thomas laughed behind her and slapped her ass, earning him a squeak of surprised from Quinn.

“Horny slut.”

“Please?” she said to the cashier, ignoring her stepfather. “I want to have your cock in my pussy.”

“He can fuck your pussy but I want to fuck your ass while he does it.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay,” Gordon responded, eyes never leaving Quinn.

Thomas pulled out of Quinn’s cunt and unceremoniously picked her up off of her feet. The head of his cock teased her asshole. She reached down and helped to push his cock into her hole, toes curling as his cock filled her ass. Thomas held her with her back again his chest and his hands on her ass. Her legs were open showing off her cunt, still leaking Thomas’s cum, to Gordon’s gaze. Thinking with his lower head, Gordon stepped between her legs and pushed his cock into her waiting hole. Between her juices and Thomas’s left over cum, Gordon’s cock slid in easily.

“Oh my god,” Quinn said with a groan, closing her eyes and learning her head back on Thomas’s shoulder.

“So… fucking…tight,” Thomas said, reeling from the sensation of her ass clenched around him with the additional tightness added from Gordon’s cock in her cunt.

Thomas and Gordon scrambled to adjust their shared grip on her body. Thomas adjusted his grip on her ass and Gordon grabbed hold of her thighs. Working together, they worked to bounce Quinn on their cocks while also attempting to thrust into her holes. It was an awkward process but it felt so good that it didn’t even matter. Quinn had never felt so full in her life. She felt as if any moment she might just combust. It was painful and uncomfortable but so pleasurable.

She opened her eyes and lifting her head off of Thomas’s shoulder, leaned forward to capture Gordon’s mouth in a kiss. He swiped at her bottom lip with his tongue and she opened up her mouth, allowing him to intertwine his tongue with her’s. He was so wrapped up in kissing her that he stopped thrusting which made it much easier for Thomas to hammer his cock into her ass. With a free hand, Quinn reached down to rub her sensitive clit. She moaned against Gordon’s lips as she came. Her body went ridged in his arms as she rode out her orgasm. Greedy, she continued to furiously rub her clit, pushing herself to another orgasm.

“Fuck,” Thomas exclaimed as he felt her clench around him. “Fuck!”

Her asshole was so snug around him that he could hardly move but it was fine, the rhythmic clenching of her hole as she orgasmed guided him to his release. He stood there for a moment, reeling from the sensation. Finally, he braced himself and slowly pulled out of her ass. His cum leaked out of her hole in the absence of his cock but he used his thick fingers to fuck it back in.

Frank no longer right behind her. Gordon lowered her to her feet and turned her, bending her over the counter so he could finish himself off. Frank’s softening cock seemed to wake back up at the sight and he stroked it idly while he watched Gordon roughly pound her from behind until he came deep in her cunt. Gordon took a step back and the two men admired the sight of Quinn’s sloppy, cum covered holes.

“So, I’m good to take the cigarettes, right?”

#this will get edits probably soon but i really just want to get it out #writing threesoms is hard man #cnc fr33use #cnc k!nk #fauxcest #rough cnc #rough kink #abuse k1nk #daddy k!nk #1cky princess #1cky d4ddy

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puckarchives · 8 months

Text

strawberry wine: l. hughes

blurb: in which luke is teased for how he treats you, but he doesn’t mind. Not if all of it’s for you / word count: 1.3k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

You hadn’t meant to fall in love with him at first. When you first met Luke— right in the middle of your freshman year at UMich, where you were trying to balance the precarious work-social life balance— it wasn’t love at first sight. No, you were way too pessimistic for that. Instead, the love you had garnered for the curly haired boy was gratuitous— it was a simmering feeling you felt every time he turned his gaze on you, everytime he checked in with you via text or phone call when he was away, and the feeling of his heartbeat as he laid on your chest— the reminder that, above all, he had put you first.

Falling in love with Luke wasn’t an automatic fairy-godmother thing, but it was magic all the same — it was the feeling of coming up for air after being submerged underwater, the feeling of being in the sun after being inside for too long. It was a feeling you wanted to be embraced with all the time, really.

Now, though, you were hearing the extent at which Luke loved you — in your sleep induced haze while your head laid on Luke’s chest, and your legs extended over his lap. The two of you had made your way to the Hughes Family lake house for the first few weeks of the summer, where you were joined by Quinn and Jack, as well as some of your and Luke’s mutual friends from UMich; all the people you cared about, all under one roof.

As the summer grew, and the first week turned into the second, you could only feel how much your love had grown for the boy with the curls— the boy who had somehow made falling in love with an all-consuming feeling that you never wanted to let go of.

Now, though, as you listened to the conversation around you, your almost-sleep was interrupted when you heard Jack call to Luke— saying something along the lines of something “being clear,” and picking up on some changes in Luke’s behavior.

Now almost fully awake, you didn’t want to make yourself entirely known— not just yet. Luke and you had spoken about what to expect on the trip— the teasing and remarks that were sure to come from his brothers, the jokes that were sure to come out of Trevor or Duker at one point, and even the overprotectiveness for the only other woman in the house from Ellen. Now, through, you could tell the conversation was fully about you— and Luke.

“I’m just saying, man,” you could hear Jack start. “We’ve never seen you this whipped before! It’s liek you’re an entirely new man, Moose,” he finished, to where you heard the rest of the boys add in their own agreements. You felt Luke pull you even closer when he said that, and could feel the hand on your calve resume its soft movements— mishappen shapes and letters that didn’t really mean anything, but that Luke had gotten into the habit of doing whenever you were around.

“Name one time where that’s happened,” Luke said. “I might be in love, but I haven’t changed,” he said, and oh god— he was in love with you! Even if you were still supposed to be asleep the sole notioon that he’d say it in front of the people whose opinions he cared about so deeply made your heart melt even more. The truth was, you were in love with Luke as much as he was in lovr with you — he was your rock, your safe place, and above all else, the person you looked for in anything; the one who had captured your heart and kept it as close as he could to his own.

“C’mon, dude, you literally put your hand on the table corner when she dropped her cup the other day, just so she wouldn’t hit her head,” Quinn said from the opposite chair. “And, not to mention, you literally called Mom right after your first date with her, just to ask her how you did, and to see if she could help you see whatever signs Y/N was givign you” the boys laughed. While you had picked up on the things Luke did for you— including making sure you were always safe, that second thing wasn’t something you were aware of. Sure, you were both nervous wrecks on your first date, but you found him charming— especially when he had shown up at your dorm smartly dressed, and had brought flowers not only for you, but for your roommate too.

“Plus, remember that time Coach made you do extra liners because you showed up to practice with a hickey on your neck?” Duker said. “Wasn’t that after your sixth-month anniversary, or something? When you rented that hotel room to, and I quote, “treat her how she deserves to be treated?” C’mon Hughes, you’re a sap!” he finished.

Duke was right; you remembered that date almost vividly. Luke had spent so much on a grand hotel room, had taken you out to dinner at a nice restaurant, and, in the privacy of your own room, had danced with you for the entire night— had spun you around and around until the two of you ended up tangled in the white sheets, kisses being shared like secrets, and leaving them like brands on the entire expanse of his chest, his neck, and his mouth. The two of you had drank a third of a bottle of strawberry wine before you ended up on your tiptoes, Luke spinning you and leading you around the expanse of the entire room, before ultimately taking it further.

That night, you had become his, and he had become yours in a way that you had never imagined possible; regardless of either of your past experiences, you had felt love strum between the two of you in, as cliche as it sounds — magical way.

“So what, I care about her! Look at her, and tell me you wouldn’t give it all up” Luke said, but you could tell he wasn’t mad in the slightest. Sure, he was getting chirped at, but it was all in good fun, and he understood that; it must have been a strange thing, for both of his older brothers to see him so in love, and so ready to be tied down to you, that he didn’t even mind the teasing.

Luke, for all his faults, loved you, and that much was entirely apparent every time he opened his mouth to talk about you— something he would do any chance he got, always finding a way to bring you up in his conversations.

“We know, dude, you’ve just become such a sap,” Jack added. “‘S making the rest of us wanna settle down too,” he said, laughing. It was true, in a way. Seeing their little brother so in love — so much so that he had almost put his hockey career on pause just to be able to graduate with you, and looked like Cupid had whacked him in the ass with an arrow every time he looked at you — they could clearly see the adoration he had for you; the bone deep understanding that you were his, and he was yours.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said, waving them away. Feeling like this was your cue to get up, however, now that the conversation had died down, you opened your eyes, and picked your head up slowly from his chest. Luke looked down at you immediately, his hand that was previously on your leg coming up to cup your chin.

“You okay there, honey?” he asked. You could only try to shake away the remaining sleep from your head, and smile up at him. Here was your boy — the one who had taken your heart and ran with it, who held you close, and who planned to never let go; the man you wanted to spend the rest of your days with, and who was willing to endure every single comment about your relationship just to keep you. You couldn’t have asked for anyone better —— you couldn’t have asked for anyone other than your Luke.

“Never better, baby. Never better.”

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #quinn hughes #jack hughes #hughes family mentioned #umich wolverines #umich hockey #luke hughes is a sap

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 2 years

Text

Classing Up Macy's

Summary- 1.5k Ransom x Kitten. Ransom scored a trip to New York City thanks to Harlan needing someone to promote his newest novel. Lucky for Ransom, he was able to bring you along for the trip.

Warnings- Public dressing room sex with mirrors, some taunting dirty talk. Ransom being a cocky bastard.

A/N- It has been forever since I've posted and this was originally for kinktober but your girl here lost the will to write for a while. But this was a fun little piece and felt like it was a good time to share with everyone. As always, thank you so much for reading and sharing! have a safe, fun and kinky October everyone.

Precarious Agreements Masterlist

Ransom didn’t expect to be spending a week in New York. But when Harlan sent him upstate to help with some promoting obligations he had, Ransom jumped at the opportunity to take you with him, a weekend getwaway he called it.

Ransom was still riding that high at the image of Walt’s crestfallen face morphing to anger when they got done with the meeting. Better then any drug he ever had.

Well almost.

You beat all of it easily.

Which is why he was happy to follow you around the city to any store you wanted, willing to hand over the credit card whenever you wanted to make a purchase, even though you tried to dissuade him with assurances that you could buy it yourself.

Currently, he was wandering behind you in Macy’s. So far he was unimpressed, but you were soaking it in. You would pause and flick through racks, picking out some dress and holding it up to twirl for him to see. His gaze would rake over it, mustering up a smirk as he followed the curves of your body. He knew that you would look so much better naked, in his bed in the hotel room. “What do you think Ransom?”

“Kitten, you could make a trash bag fashion.” He cocked his brow at you knowingly and you rolled your eyes at him before letting the dress drape over your arm.

“You are just hoping to get lucky tonight.” You scoffed as you turned back to the rack to look for other items.

Ransom took it as a challenge. Glancing around, he caught sight of what he was looking for and hooked his arm around your waist, taking the dress from you. “Fine, you want the truth? All this crap isn’t nearly good enough for you.”

“What?” You laughed as you let him sweep you along, bypassing the attending employees into the fitting rooms. He just happened to get lucky enough to have one unlocked that he ushered you into.

“You heard me Kitten.” He swept you around till you were facing a full length mirror. His hand groped the front of your dress, his eyes devious as they stared at you while he was nibbling on your neck, making you tilt just slightly, all caught up in what Ransom was doing. “All this crap, not nearly good enough.”

“What would be good enough?” You whispered, your belly clenching as his hand went under your shirt, his warm hand pressing into your skirt to rub fingers against your clit. “Ransom!” You hissed, warily looking at the door.

“Shush Kitten, they will never know. If I gotta stuff your mouth to shut you up I will.” He said, his warning holding no real fear for you. You loved when he stuffed your mouth- fingers, your panties, his cock. You would take any of it.

Slipping your skirt up around your waist till your ass was bare, his fingers dipping back into your cunt to swirl your now dripping juices. You reached behind you to grasp his hip, hold yourself steady and pull your ass back to grind into him. “Fuck me Ransom. Here, I want to see us in the mirror.”

“You gonna be quiet, Kitten?” Fingers leaving your clenching core had you whining at him as he stepped away, making a show in the mirror to suck his fingers off. You were always so greedy, even now the flare in your eyes in the mirror showed how turned on you were because of him. From the other side of the door, you both could hear shuffling footsteps and women chatting, so unaware that you and Ransom were just beyond the door. Getting fucked in a club or resturant, that was something you and Ransom were used to.

Getting fucked in a depatment store, where the liklihood you would be heard, he was so turned on by the thought of it. You pulled your skirt up around your hips and shucked your panties down to where Ransom plucked them from your hand, pressing his nose into them.

You always smelled so good, he could feel his dick twitch just from that.

Yanking your shirt off, you ran your hand up your naked torso, tweaking your nipples urgently while his foot knocked between yours. “Widen, lemme see my pussy dripping all over Kitten.”

You did, your ass arched out, your back dipped while your hands braced against the wall, giving you full view of Ransom admiring you from behind. He sucked in a breath, his bottom lip pulling in to give him a predatory look. “Now this is perfect. This looks good on you Kitten.” His hand ran along a ass cheek, plumping in his hand. He was sure to dig in enough to make you hiss, arching and dripping that much more. “I need you Ransom.”

“I see that pussy clenching.” He undid his pants, his cock sliding down the crack of your ass and pressing between your folds. He was quick, your panties waded in his hand was stuffed beween your gasping lips as he pushed demanding into you.

Fuck the way you clenched around him, he muttered his curses in your shoulder as more women entered the dressing room area. He couldnt keep his eyes off you, his thrusts jarring you in the mirror, yoru breasts jiggling and your mouth stuffed full as you screwed your eyes shut at the sensation. “Open those fucking eyes Kitten, you know I need to see you get off on my dick.”

You struggled at first, but then they sprang open to see Ransom studying you in the mirror. Your hands fell with a slap against the wall to hold yourself in place, your back dipping into a perfect curve for more. Ransom’s hands roamed, seeming to touch you everywhere, one against your lower belly to feel his cock filling you, fingers spread down to twirl against your swollen clit, the other rubbing against your breasts, pulling on your tits till you quivered at the sensation. His mouth was a whole other persistence that made you whine around your panties.

Plush lips sucked on all the parts on your neck that made you squirm, making your belly clench. “Your gonna leave a puddle on Macy’s floor Kitten. Fuck you are gushing around my cock.” Another jarring pound hit your spongy spot, making you shudder and go crosseyed. “Your ass just pounding off me.” A loud slap sounded enough you were sure anyone nearby would know what he was doing. “Just keep on squeezing Kitten, strangle my dick.”

His hand on your breasts slipped to the front of your throat, pulling your head to the side so he could messily bite at your panties just between your lips and yank them out, making you gasp in a deep breath of air. Your belly clenched, and fingers slapping messily against your sensitive clit had you sharply trying to muffle out your cry as you came.

Ransom had felt it, the way you were clawing at his arm wrapped around your body and the frantic gasps, he sealed his lips with yours, fucking his own spend into you as deep as he possibly could.

He glanced back at you in the mirror as you sunk back into him, your head tilted back against his shoulder, your breasts heaving as you panted trying to catch your breath. Streaks of his cum and your glistening juices streaked down your thighs. If he was a better man he would offer to clean it off with some tissues he had ready.

But he wasn’t, fuck you were gonna smell like sex rest of the day and that knowledge let his smirk flirt across his mouth.

Outside of the dressing room there was a shuffling of feet, hesitating just in front of there door, but whomever must have thought better of it because a snap of heels on the linoleum of the department store departed.

“Ransom.” Your voice was shaky, and he tightened his hold on you to keep you with him, seeing the quiver in your legs. “We should probably go? I’m sure they are gonna call security on us.”

“They can eat shit for all I care.” He muttered against the curve of your neck, but was gentle to rub his hands against your waist and eased himself from you. Once he was sure you were steady, he snatched up your clothes to help you redress.

“I don’t want to have to explain to Harlan why we were getting in trouble at Macy’s while we are here to help promote his book.” You slipped your shirt back on and smoothed your skirt back in place. Trying to fix your hair while Ransom already tucked himself back away and ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it back till it was almost perfect once more. Glancing at the floor, he swept down to grab your panties, stuffing them in the pocket of his slacks.

“Kitten, he will never hear about this.”

“I’m never getting those back am I?”

“Nope.” Ransom smirked while taking your hand in his, he eased the door open to look out and then led you out, taking you into another department of the store seeming like you two were simply shopping.

#ransom and kitten #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale au #knives out #knives out au #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #precarious agreements #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes

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pretzel-box · 14 days

Note

Sebastian trolling on intercoms, he has this one line where he says he’s stuffing urbanshade’s operatives in the drawers. My req is walking in on Seb stuffing them in the drawers and going, “dude wtff” and then proceeds to help out just because. Then it’s his turn to go “dude. wtf”

u can ignore this if u like, take care, toodles :3

Tags: Mention of dead bodies, gn!reader, can be read as established relationship, bonding over weird activities

Words: 1k

Being constantly on your own meant learning the art of multitasking, managing both the mundane and the ridiculous without complaint or backup. That's one of the first things Sebastian had perfected. No matter how brutal the mission or how complicated the intel, it always came down to doing the dirty work solo. He had a particular distaste for asking for help, especially from the expendables sent by Urbanshade. Not that they could be much help anyway—Sebastian had long suspected that most of them lacked the basic smarts to handle even the simplest tasks.

He once likened them to dogs: you throw them a bone, and instead of catching it, they'd get hit in the face. That mental image gave him an odd sort of satisfaction as he worked.

But today was testing even his limits.

He was crouched over a body, struggling to cram a fully massacred Urbanshade operative into a drawer not designed to hold anything larger than some spare parts and tools. The operative was limp and heavy, their arms and legs flopping uselessly as Sebastian tried, for the third time, to fold them in enough to close the drawer.

He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he shoved a leg into place. “Another day, another operative stuffed in the drawers,” he muttered sarcastically to himself. “I swear, Urbanshade should just invest in bigger cabinets if they want to keep sending these guys.”

He gave the drawer another forceful push, but it stubbornly resisted.

Suddenly, a voice echoed down the corridor. “Sebastian, what the actual—” You appeared in the doorway, your expression a mix of shock and disbelief as you took in the bizarre scene. “What the hell are you doing?”

Sebastian didn’t even look up, his voice steady and dry. “They ran out of closets. And I ran out of patience.” He gave the drawer a final shove, managing to stuff half the operative’s body inside, though one arm still dangled precariously from the side. “You’d think Urbanshade would plan for this, but here we are.”

For a moment, you just stood there, trying to process the absurdity of what you were witnessing. The operative, the drawer, Sebastian’s complete lack of concern—it was all too ridiculous.

“Well…” you sighed after a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I guess I’ll help.”

Sebastian finally looked up, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise. “You’re seriously going to help me?”

“Clearly, you need it,” you replied, stepping forward and rolling up your sleeves. “There’s no way this guy’s fitting without some… creativity.”

Without another word, the two of you got to work. The silence between you was punctuated only by the occasional grunt as you both maneuvered the operative’s limbs into the most unnatural positions possible, trying to make him fit into the narrow space. You had to bend the legs awkwardly, twist the arms into near-impossible angles—it felt like playing a weird game of human Tetris, but the stakes were somehow more absurd.

At one point, the operative’s foot got stuck between the drawer and the frame, and you had to push down hard on his leg while Sebastian yanked at the drawer to create enough space.

“This is not what I signed up for,” you muttered under your breath, gritting your teeth as you pushed with all your strength.

Sebastian grunted in agreement, though there was a faint smirk on his lips. “Welcome to my world.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of bending, twisting, and shoving, the drawer slide shut with a satisfying click. Both of you stood back, breathing heavily from the effort, staring at the now-closed drawer that held the awkwardly folded operative.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead and turned to Sebastian, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Dude, what the actual hell.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning against the drawer with his arms crossed, the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes. “I could say the same to you. You just helped me shove a guy into a drawer.”

“Hey, I wasn’t going to leave you struggling,” you shot back with a shrug. “Besides, if we’re going to survive in this hellhole, we’ve gotta get a little creative, right?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Fair enough. But I didn’t expect you to jump in so willingly.”

You couldn’t help but grin as you leaned against the wall, crossing your arms. “Well, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t going to pass up on something this ridiculous. I mean, it’s not every day you get to help someone stuff an Urbanshade goon into a drawer.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he glanced at the now-closed drawer. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

The two of you stood in companionable silence for a moment, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. It wasn’t the first bizarre thing you’d encountered down here, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but at least you had someone to share the insanity with.

“Well,” you said eventually, pushing off the wall, “since we’ve finished this little project, what’s next? Filing cabinets? Maybe the supply closet?”

Sebastian snorted, straightening up as he stretched his arms. “I think we’ll save that for tomorrow’s entertainment. But hey, if you’re free, I might call you in for backup.”

You rolled your eyes, but the grin on your face remained. “Sure, because I definitely have nothing better to do than help you play hide-the-body with Urbanshade’s finest.”

He shrugged, smirking as he headed toward the door. “It’s either that or sit around waiting for the next crystal hunt. Your choice.”

You followed him out, the tension easing with every step. In a place like this, where the line between sanity and chaos blurred more with each passing day, it was a relief to know that, at the very least, you weren’t facing the madness alone.

“Who knew stuffing people in drawers would be a bonding experience,” you quipped, shooting him a playful look as you walked down the corridor.

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised what counts as bonding in this place.”

And with that, the two of you disappeared into the shadows of the facility, ready to fill some more furniture with unnatural stuff.

#sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #roblox pressure #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure #pressure x reader

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mybelovedwoo · 2 months

Text

sound of love pt.1

hongjoong x f!reader

fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, work rivalry/ wc: 4.1k

warnings: arguments, alcohol, kissing

note: this is part one of my first ever hongjoong fic. hope you all like it!! part 2 is coming soon. if you want to be tagged in any of my fics, you can apply here!

Hongjoong masterlist - Main masterlist

The music store was a haven for audiophiles and professionals alike, a labyrinth of aisles filled with the latest equipment and vintage treasures. Hongjoong navigated through the store with purpose, his mind set on one specific item: the latest model of a high-end speaker that had been receiving rave reviews. It was the final piece he needed to perfect his home studio setup.

As he approached the display where the speakers were usually showcased, his heart sank. Only one speaker remained, perched precariously on the edge of the shelf. Quickening his pace, Hongjoong reached out to grab it.

Just as his fingers brushed the box, another hand darted out and seized it. Hongjoong looked up, startled, and found himself face-to-face with a young woman. She was about his age, with determined eyes and a firm grip on the speaker.

"Excuse me, but I believe I saw this first," Hongjoong said, trying to keep his voice polite but firm.

The woman raised an eyebrow, her expression unyielding. "And I believe possession is nine-tenths of the law," she replied, clutching the speaker tighter.

Hongjoong's frustration began to bubble up. "Look, I've been searching for this model for weeks. I need it for a project that's due soon."

"So do I," she retorted, her tone equally firm. "I've been saving up for this, and I can't let it go now."

Their argument drew the attention of other shoppers, but neither seemed to care. Each was determined to walk away with the speaker, and neither was willing to back down.

"Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement," Hongjoong suggested, trying to inject some reason into the conversation. "I'll pay you double what it costs."

The woman's eyes flashed with defiance. "It's not about the money. It's about principle. I got here first, and I need this speaker just as much as you do."

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Okay, how about this: I really need this speaker for a client project. If you let me have it, I'll owe you one. I can help you with your project, whatever you need."

The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, her expression softening slightly. But then she shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but I have my own deadlines to meet. I can't afford to wait."

Before Hongjoong could respond, she turned and walked towards the checkout counter, the speaker still firmly in her grasp. He stood there, stunned and speechless, watching her retreating figure.

"I'll never forgive her," he muttered under his breath, watching her leave the store.

Days turned into weeks, and the incident at the music store remained a sore spot for Hongjoong. His colleagues at the producer team had noticed his mood but thought it best not to pry. That was until the day their boss, Eden, introduced the newest member of their team.

"Everyone, meet Y/n, our new producer. She's exceptionally talented and will be a great addition to our team," Eden announced.

Hongjoong's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Y/n stood before him, the same girl who had taken the speaker. Their eyes locked, and recognition flashed in Y/n's eyes too.

"You?" they both said in unison.

Their colleagues looked between them curiously. "Do you two know each other?" one asked.

Hongjoong quickly composed himself and shook his head. "Only in passing," he said, forcing a polite smile.

"Yeah, just in passing," Y/n echoed, mirroring his expression.

Eden, oblivious to the undercurrents, continued with the introductions. "Y/n, let me show you around," one of their teammates offered, sensing the tension between Hongjoong and Y/n.

Y/n nodded eagerly, her enthusiasm evident as she followed her colleague around the studio. She marveled at the advanced equipment, asked insightful questions about ongoing projects, and eagerly absorbed every detail of her new workspace.

As they passed the recording booths, the sound mixers, and the editing bays, Y/n couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. This was where she belonged, and she was determined to make a mark. She took mental notes of everything, from the placement of the soundproof panels to the state-of-the-art software they used.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong watched from a distance, occasionally catching glimpses of Y/n's genuine excitement. Despite his initial resolve to maintain distance and rivalry, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about the person behind the fierce determination he had encountered at the music store.

Finally, they arrived at the main studio room where the team often collaborated. It was a spacious area filled with instruments, computers, and a massive mixing console.

"And this is where the magic happens," their colleague said with a smile. "You'll spend a lot of time here."

Y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement. "This is amazing. I can't wait to get started."

Eden stepped forward, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, team, let's get back to work. Y/n, feel free to dive in and ask for help if you need anything."

As the team dispersed, Y/n found her designated workstation and began setting up her equipment. She was eager to prove herself, not just to her new colleagues but also to herself.

In the following week, Hongjoong and Y/n navigated their roles within the producer team with a mixture of competition and cooperation. While they maintained a professional demeanor during work hours, their interactions were often laced with subtle challenges and occasional disagreements.

"Y/n, I think this beat would sound better with a different tempo," Hongjoong suggested during one of their collaborative sessions.

Y/n frowned slightly, considering his suggestion. "I appreciate your input, but I think the current tempo captures the mood we're going for," she replied, her voice firm but not confrontational.

Their colleagues observed their dynamic with bemusement, unsure whether to intervene or let the rivalry play out naturally. Despite their differences, Hongjoong and Y/n's combined efforts yielded impressive results, garnering praise from clients and industry professionals alike.

It had been over a week since Y/n started working with the team, and she was gradually finding her rhythm. As the team gathered for their daily briefing, the door swung open, and Maddox, one of the senior producers, walked in.

"Maddox! Welcome back!" Eden greeted him warmly. "Maddox, meet Y/n, our newest producer. She joined us while you were away."

Maddox's face lit up when he saw Y/n. "Y/n! It's great to see you here," he said, pulling her into a hug.

Y/n beamed and hugged him back. "Maddox, I've missed you!"

Their colleagues watched the scene with a mix of surprise and curiosity. Most of them assumed this was the first time Y/n and Maddox were meeting, given that Maddox had been away when Y/n started. Hongjoong, however, found himself feeling puzzled and somewhat uneasy at their close interaction.

"You two seem pretty close," one of their colleagues commented, raising an eyebrow.

Maddox smiled, not missing a beat. "Yeah, Y/n's incredibly talented. It's great to have her on the team."

The team accepted this explanation without further questions, assuming that Maddox and Y/n had simply hit it off quickly. Hongjoong, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to their relationship than met the eye.

As the day went on, Hongjoong found himself watching Y/n and Maddox more closely. They worked together seamlessly, finishing each other's sentences and sharing inside jokes that no one else seemed to get. It was clear they had a strong connection, and Hongjoong's curiosity only grew.

During a break, Hongjoong approached Y/n, trying to appear casual. "So, you and Maddox seem pretty close," he remarked.

Y/n looked up from her notes, her expression neutral. "Yeah, Maddox has been really supportive. It's nice to have someone like him around."

Hongjoong nodded slowly, not entirely satisfied with her answer. "You know, it's just... interesting how quickly you two have bonded."

Y/n smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Music brings people together, I guess."

Hongjoong didn't leave it at that. His frustration bubbled up, unable to hold back any longer. "Come on, Y/n. Don't give me that. There's clearly more going on here. People don't just bond like that overnight."

Y/n's eyes flashed with annoyance. "And why does it matter so much to you, Hongjoong? Why can't you just accept that we're friends?"

"Because," he snapped, "you're hiding something. It's obvious. And I don't like working with someone who isn't being honest with the team."

Y/n bristled at his accusation. "I am being honest. Just because you don't understand something doesn't mean it's not real."

Hongjoong took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Then explain it to me. What are you hiding?"

Y/n stood her ground, meeting his gaze head-on. "That's none of your business, Hongjoong. You don't get to demand answers from me just because you're suspicious."

Their argument caught the attention of their colleagues, who glanced over with concern. Sensing the rising tension, Maddox intervened, stepping between them.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Maddox asked, looking from Y/n to Hongjoong.

Hongjoong took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. "Nothing. Just a difference of opinion."

Maddox looked at Y/n, who nodded, her expression still tight with anger. "It's fine, Maddox. Just a misunderstanding."

Maddox didn't seem entirely convinced but decided to let it drop for now. "Alright. Let's focus on the work, okay?"

Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged one last glare before turning back to their respective tasks, the air between them still charged with unresolved tension.

The next day, the atmosphere in the studio was tense. Y/n and Hongjoong did their best to avoid each other, focusing intently on their own projects. Their colleagues noticed the shift, but no one said anything, hoping the tension would resolve itself.

However, Eden had other plans. Late in the morning, he called for a meeting in the main conference room. As everyone gathered, Eden addressed the team with a determined look.

"Alright, we have a new project that requires immediate attention," Eden began. "It's a high-profile client, and they want something fresh and innovative. Y/n and Hongjoong, I want you two to lead this project together."

Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged glances, both clearly unhappy with the arrangement but unable to voice their objections.

Eden continued, "I know you two have your differences, but your combined talents can produce something incredible. This is an important opportunity for both of you to show what you can do."

Hongjoong forced a tight smile. "Of course, Eden. We'll make it work."

Y/n nodded, her expression equally strained. "Absolutely. We'll get it done."

Eden clapped his hands, oblivious to the underlying tension. "Great! The client is coming in tomorrow for a briefing. I expect you two to be prepared with some initial ideas."

After the meeting, Y/n and Hongjoong stayed behind, facing each other awkwardly.

"We need to put aside whatever this is and focus on the project," Y/n said firmly.

Hongjoong nodded, though his frustration was evident. "Agreed. Let's just get through this."

They spent the rest of the day brainstorming ideas, their interactions polite but distant. The creative process, usually filled with excitement and energy, felt forced and mechanical. As the hours passed, the studio gradually emptied until it was just the two of them left.

Y/n glanced at the clock, then at Hongjoong. "It's getting really late. Maybe we should wrap it up for today and get some sleep. We can start fresh tomorrow."

Hongjoong looked up, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Are you serious? We have a lot of work to do, and you're talking about going home to sleep?"

Y/n frowned, taken aback by his tone. "It's not that I don't take this seriously. I just think we'd be more productive if we weren't exhausted."

Hongjoong stood up, pacing the room. "We don't have the luxury of time, Y/n. This is a high-profile client, and we need to deliver something exceptional. If that means staying here overnight, then so be it."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her temples. "I get that, but pushing ourselves to the brink isn't going to help. We need rest to think clearly."

Hongjoong stopped and faced her, his expression hard. "Maybe you can afford to take it easy, but I can't. This project is too important. If you're not willing to put in the effort, you can leave. I'll handle it myself."

Without waiting for her response, Hongjoong turned and walked out of the room, needing to clear his head. He stepped outside into the cool night air, taking deep breaths to calm his racing thoughts. He felt a mix of frustration and guilt, wondering if he had been too harsh.

After a few minutes, he decided to head back in, determined to push through the night. When he returned to the studio, he found Y/n's workstation empty. His heart sank, and anger flared up again. She really left, he thought bitterly. Just great.

He sat down and tried to focus on the project, but his mind kept drifting back to Y/n. Half an hour later, just as he was about to give up on any progress for the night, the door opened, and Y/n walked in carrying a bag of take-out food.

"I thought we might need some fuel if we're going to work all night," she said, setting the bag down and pulling out containers.

Hongjoong stared at her in surprise. "You... you went to get food?"

Y/n nodded, handing him a container. "Yeah. I figured we'd both be more productive if we had something to eat."

Hongjoong felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had jumped to conclusions, assuming she had abandoned the project. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I shouldn't have doubted you."

Y/n shrugged, offering a small smile. "It's okay. We're both under a lot of stress. Let's just focus on getting this done."

They sat down and started eating, the tension between them easing slightly. As they ate, they talked about the project, bouncing ideas off each other and finding new energy in their collaboration.

Hongjoong found himself increasingly impressed by Y/n's dedication and creativity. He realized that despite their differences, they could achieve great things together. And for the first time since their argument, he felt a glimmer of hope that they might actually make this partnership work.

As the night wore on, Y/n and Hongjoong found a rhythm in their work. They shared ideas, critiqued each other's suggestions, and slowly but surely, the project began to take shape. The food had revitalized them, and the earlier animosity was replaced by a shared sense of purpose.

Around 3 AM, Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, stretching his tired muscles. "I think we have a solid draft."

Y/n looked over the screen, nodding. "Yeah, it's good. We'll need to refine it, but it's a strong foundation."

There was a brief moment of silence, the intensity of the work finally giving way to exhaustion. Y/n glanced at Hongjoong, her voice softer. "You really care about this project, don't you?"

Hongjoong sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I do. It's not just about the work. It's about proving something to myself, to everyone."

Y/n nodded slowly. "I get that. I care too. Maybe we just have different ways of showing it."

Hongjoong looked at her, his expression less guarded than before. "Maybe you're right. Sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Y/n offered a small smile. "It's okay. We're both under a lot of pressure. Let's just focus on getting this done."

Hongjoong nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Agreed. Let's make this the best project we've ever done."

The next morning, the team reconvened at the studio. Hongjoong arrived early, as usual, feeling the weight of the long night but also a sense of accomplishment. He was surprised to see Maddox and Y/n arriving together, stepping out of the same car.

Maddox waved at Hongjoong as they walked towards the entrance. "Morning, Hongjoong! How's it going?"

Hongjoong forced a smile, trying to mask his curiosity. "Morning. It's going well. You two came together?"

Y/n nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, Maddox offered me a ride. We live close to each other."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and suspicion swirling in his mind. "I see. Well, it's good to be early. We have a lot to cover today."

As they entered the studio, Hongjoong couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. He had always been good at reading people, and the ease between Y/n and Maddox seemed more than just friendly. He couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something he was missing.

They gathered in the conference room for a quick briefing with Eden. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as they prepared to present their progress to the client. Despite the previous night's tension, Hongjoong and Y/n managed to put forth a united front, their collaboration bearing the fruits of their hard work.

Eden glanced over their work, nodding approvingly. "This is excellent. You two did a great job. The client is going to love it."

Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged a look, both relieved and satisfied. It was clear that despite their personal differences, their professional synergy was undeniable. After the meeting, everyone returned to their individual tasks, the studio buzzing with renewed energy and optimism.

The afternoon passed quickly as they immersed themselves in their work. Each person focused on their projects, the usual hum of creativity filling the room. Around mid-afternoon, Eden called for everyone's attention with a broad smile on his face.

"I've got some fantastic news, team," Eden announced, his excitement palpable. "The client loved the music you created, Y/n and Hongjoong. In fact, they were so impressed that they've asked us to produce an entire album for them!"

A chorus of cheers and applause erupted in the room. Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged another look, this time filled with mutual pride and accomplishment. The tension between them seemed to dissolve in the face of their shared success.

"That's incredible!" Y/n said, beaming. "I'm so glad they liked it."

"Me too," Hongjoong admitted, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "This is a huge opportunity for all of us."

One of their colleagues clapped his hands together. "This calls for a celebration! How about we all go out tonight, have some drinks, and toast to our success?"

The suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement from everyone. The idea of unwinding and celebrating their hard work was appealing to the whole team.

"Count me in," Maddox said, grinning. "We all deserve a break after the week we've had."

"Absolutely," Eden agreed. "Let's meet at that new bar downtown around eight. Drinks are on me."

The rest of the day flew by in a flurry of excitement and productivity. As evening approached, everyone began to wrap up their work and prepare for the night out. Y/n and Hongjoong, despite their previous tensions, found themselves exchanging smiles and light-hearted comments, the success of their project serving as a bridge between them.

By eight o'clock, the team gathered at the trendy new bar downtown. The atmosphere was lively, with music playing and patrons enjoying their evening. The team found a large table and settled in, the mood festive and relaxed.

Eden raised his glass, calling for a toast. "To Y/n and Hongjoong, for their incredible work and for bringing us this amazing opportunity. And to the rest of the team, for always giving their best. Here's to more successes and good times ahead!"

"Cheers!" everyone echoed, clinking their glasses together.

As the night went on, the initial formality gave way to laughter and camaraderie. Stories were shared, and everyone relaxed, enjoying the rare opportunity to unwind together.

Hongjoong found himself next to Y/n, and he took a moment to acknowledge their recent journey. "You know, despite everything, I'm glad we managed to pull this off."

Y/n smiled, taking a sip of her drink. "Me too. I think we proved that we make a pretty good team, even if we don't always see eye to eye."

"Agreed," Hongjoong said, his tone sincere. "Maybe this project will be the start of something good."

Y/n nodded, feeling a sense of hope. "Let's make this album even better than the single. We can really do something special."

As the evening progressed, Hongjoong noticed Maddox and Y/n sharing a quiet conversation and laughing together. The ease between them was unmistakable, and Hongjoong's earlier suspicions resurfaced, but he pushed them aside. Tonight was about celebration, not secrets.

The night stretched on, filled with laughter, music, and a shared sense of achievement. The barriers between Y/n and Hongjoong continued to lower, replaced by a budding respect and the beginnings of a friendship. As the drinks kept flowing, the team grew increasingly merry. By the end of the night, most of them were thoroughly drunk, including Y/n. Hongjoong, however, had only gotten a little tipsy, careful not to lose control.

Eden, who was also quite inebriated, noticed Y/n struggling to stay upright as she laughed at something Maddox said. He turned to Hongjoong, his voice slurring slightly. "Hongjoong, can you make sure Y/n gets home safely? It's dangerous for her to go alone."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard. "Why me?"

Eden gave him a lopsided grin. "Because you're the most sober of them all, my friend. And someone has to make sure she's safe."

Realizing there was no point in arguing, Hongjoong nodded. "Alright, I'll take her."

Hongjoong gently helped Y/n to her feet, supporting her as they made their way out of the bar. Y/n leaned heavily on him, her steps unsteady.

"Where do you live?" Hongjoong asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Y/n blinked a few times, trying to focus. "Not far... just a few blocks from here."

Hongjoong nodded, guiding her down the street. The cool night air helped clear his head a bit more, and he kept a firm grip on Y/n, making sure she didn't stumble.

As they walked, Y/n glanced up at him, her eyes slightly glazed. "You know, Hongjoong, you're not so bad."

Hongjoong chuckled softly. "Thanks, Y/n. You're not so bad yourself."

She giggled, the sound light and carefree. "I mean it. I know we've had our... differences, but tonight was fun."

"Yeah, it was," Hongjoong agreed. "And we make a good team. We just need to remember that."

They reached Y/n's apartment building, and Hongjoong helped her up the steps. She fumbled for her keys, eventually finding them and managing to unlock the door. Before she stepped inside, she turned to Hongjoong, her expression more serious than he'd seen all night.

"Thank you for walking me home," she said softly.

"Anytime," Hongjoong replied, meaning it. "Get some rest. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Y/n smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "Goodnight, Hongjoong."

"Goodnight, Y/n."

She closed the door behind her, and Hongjoong stood there for a moment, feeling a strange sense of fulfillment. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but it had also brought a new layer of understanding between them.

As he walked back to his own place, he couldn't help but feel that their rivalry had given way to something far more valuable: a foundation for a true partnership, and perhaps even a friendship. And with that thought, he looked forward to what they could achieve together.

The next day, Hongjoong walked into the studio, still feeling the lingering effects of the late night celebration. He greeted his colleagues with a nod, making his way to his workstation. As he approached his desk, he noticed a neatly wrapped present sitting in the center of it.

Curious, Hongjoong picked up the gift, inspecting the wrapping. It was simple but elegant, with a small card attached. He opened the card first, reading the handwritten note inside:

"For your hard work. I hope you like it!"

His eyes widened in surprise. The handwriting was unmistakable—he immediately knew it was from Y/n. With growing anticipation, he carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside was the very speaker they had argued over at the music store.

Hongjoong stared at the speaker, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He couldn't believe she had gone out of her way to get it for him. He picked up the card again, reading the note once more, a smile slowly spreading across his face. Determined to express his gratitude, he decided to find Y/n immediately.

He headed to the section of the studio where Y/n usually worked. As he approached, he saw her through the glass window, deeply engrossed in her work with her headphones on. Hongjoong took a moment to steady his nerves before stepping inside.

Y/n was so focused on her project that she didn't notice Hongjoong until he was standing right next to her. Sensing his presence, she took off her headphones and looked at him curiously.

"What's this?" Hongjoong asked, holding up the card.

Y/n's eyes widened, a flicker of worry crossing her face. She stood up, her hands clasped nervously. "I'm sorry, I thought you would be happy about it."

Before she could say more, Hongjoong closed the distance between them and kissed her, the action sudden and impulsive. Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the kiss, her hands finding their way to his shoulders.

Just as they were lost in the moment, the door to the studio swung open, and Maddox walked in. He froze, staring at them in shock and anger. "What are you doing with my sister???" he demanded, his voice rising in disbelief.

Y/n and Hongjoong broke apart, both of them turning to face Maddox. Y/n looked horrified, while Hongjoong appeared completely taken aback.

"Your sister?" Hongjoong repeated, his mind struggling to process the information.

(part 2 coming soon!)

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months

Text

Tia Tana

Magdalena Eriksson x Hardersson!Reader

Aitana Bonmatí x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The match against Spain

Spain knocks Sweden out of the World Cup...Well, Sweden still has to play for the third-place title so you suppose they're not fully knocked out but knocked out enough that they won't be continuing to the final.

It's a little sad and Morsa looks a little teary as she holds you tight for a few seconds before drawing back and pushing the hair out of your face.

"You're still going to get a medal," She tells you," Another bronze to hang in your room."

You nod. "Okay."

Despite the loss, the other Sweden girls seem content to mill around with Spain and laugh and joke with them. It's a little weird but you're fine with it and Morsa lets you go on the provision that you don't leave the pitch.

You think she worries too much but do as she says.

You make a few stops on the way. You give Johanna and Zećira big hugs on your way around and make sure to stop to take a picture with Nathalie and Filippa before beelining straight for moster Frido.

She picks you up instantly, without you even having to ask, and you move about until you're on her back.

"Moster," You say," When I'm older, are you going to come watch me play at the World Cup?"

She laughs. "Of course I will. You're still giving me your shirt, right?"

"Not my final one," You reply," Because I already promised that to someone else but maybe another one."

"Well," Frido says," As long as I get one of them, I don't mind."

"One of what?"

It was a new voice this time but definitely a vaguely familiar one. You perk up on Frido's back and look down to see Aitana standing in front of you both.

Frido bounces you. "This little monster's going to compete in a World Cup one day. She's already promised someone her final's shirt but I've bartered for another one. You should make an agreement now. By the time this one plays a World Cup, she might not have any more jerseys to give out."

Aitana smiles, all warm and happy at you. "Well, in that case, I'd like to reserve the one that you wear when you play against Spain."

"Okay!" You agree, hanging precariously on Frido's back," Moster, did you hear? Aitana wants my shirt like she wanted Momma's shirt."

"I did hear," Frido says, her arm reaching back to grab at you. She twists you around until you're hanging by your ankles and your special Morsa jersey is covering your eyes.

"Moster?" Aitana echoes as you're placed upright again and stumble around for a few seconds. "What does that mean?"

"Auntie," Frido says as you fall to the ground and giggle about the headrush," I've known her for longer than anyone else on the team except maybe Nilla but that's only because she played at Wolfsburg with Pernille when she was born."

"You are the favourite then?"

"Second favourite," Frido says begrudgingly," Zećira's her idol. It's kind of cute. She's holding herself to Zećira's standard when she's older, swears up and down that she's going to be just as good. Sadly, the rest of us have to settle for being less popular than Zećira."

Aitana laughs as she swaps her shirt for Frido's like they had agreed earlier.

"Just watch. Hey, y/n, who's your favourite Sweden player?"

"Zećira!"

"See? Poor old Auntie Frido, never the favourite."

You pat her on the side and nod along. "It's okay," You say," Not everyone is as cool as Zećira. Morsa says it's good to know what your weaknesses are."

Aitana giggles as she kneels in front of you. "You know, Spain has some pretty good goalkeepers too. Do you want to go meet them? Some of the Barcelona girls who sent you their jerseys are here too. I can introduce you."

You think for a moment and lean to the side to look at Frido. "Can I?"

"Off you go," She says," But don't wander into their changing room, okay? And come back to me or someone else in yellow when you're done!"

"Moster Frido worries," You tell Aitana," She babysits when Momma and Morsa go on dates back in Sweden."

"Is Sweden your home?" Aitana asks.

"Sometimes," You reply," And sometimes Denmark. Momma and Morsa like to talk about where we'll live when they retire. They don't know yet."

"Well, where do you want to live?"

"Er..." You've never really thought about that. "I don't mind. If we live in Denmark, we get to see Momma's parents all the time but Moster Frido goes home to Sweden a lot and it would be nice to see her too."

"In Spanish," Aitana says as you both approach a group of girls in Spain red," Moster is Tia."

"Tia," You repeat. Aitana's pretty cool and she plays in Spain for Barcelona. Morsa's told you that Barcelona is a very good team. Maybe when you're older and before you go to Wolfsburg, you'll play for Barcelona too. It could be fun. You'd have to learn Spanish too.

Aitana seems to think the same because she gives you words in English before translating them to Spanish but you're still hung up on Tia.

You get closer to the girls in red. You recognise only a few, Alexia (from the few times you've met her) and Ona (who you know from Not-Wolfsburg matches against Manchester United) but most of them are unknown to you.

You hang back a bit, clinging to the familiar yellow of the shirt Aitana swapped with Frido.

"Tia Tana?" You ask," Up, please?"

She's frozen for a fraction of a second before you're up on her hip so you can meet everyone at the same level.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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halfmoonaria · 3 months

Text

home

pairing: joey (from abigail) x reader

summary: all you ever wanted was a home to call your own.

words: 4.4k

warnings: violence, mention of drug abuse & overdose, gore.

author’s note: this is more of a platonic/parentish relationship so yall dont have to worry about the age gap since it isnt meant in that way.

also i know joey isnt her real name, but it felt better to use that since thats what the character name is.

i have no idea how this is going to go, but i honestly don’t care bc im so tired of writing this.

The second you stepped a foot into the van you could feel the whole atmosphere tense up. Especially Joey.

Her whole body stiffened noticeably, her shoulders tensed and her breathing almost hitched, an uneasy silence descended over the cramped space.

Was it because she could easily tell who you were by looking at you for not even a second? Or was it because she was anxious about the situation that was about to come? Perhaps it was both.

You could practically discern her actions without needing to look at her. Her movements were similar; her eyes were probably darting nervously, trying to look anywhere but at you. Her hands fiddling with one another, like they always did while she was uneasy.

The guy in the front seat looked back, his hair covered by a beanie, his features sharp and his eyes piercing behind his glasses, which had thick and prominent black frames.

As his gaze shifted to you, confusion flashed across his face. "What the fuck?" he spit, "How old are you, exactly?" his voice tinged with irritation.

Joey turned her head to you, suddenly interested in the subject and conversation at hand.

"Seventeen." You answered assuredly, shifting in your seat; feeling her gaze burn onto your skin. "Thought we weren't supposed to get personal though."

You crossed your arms defensively and sank down in your seat as you watched him clench his jaw in annoyance, turning his head back to the road muttering something about 'stupid fucking kids'.

Joey's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and despite your plans on not looking back, you did. You met her gaze with a defiant stare, silently challenging her unspoken question with your own: "The fuck you looking at?"

She turned away, her fingers still twisting together. Why did your presence make her so nervous?

Joey was the toughest woman you knew; she could effortlessly fix her own car, assemble furniture without instructions, and carry heavy groceries without breaking a sweat.

Her confidence showed in everything she did. So why did she look so incredibly agitated when you came along?

Possibly because of the past.

The van rumbled along, the road ahead illuminated by the headlights, casting long, eerie shadows in the surrounding darkness.

The man with the glasses seemed to sense the tension, couldn't resist but add, "You guys know each other or something?" Voice still as sharp as before.

His question hung in the air, cutting through the thick silence and forcing both you and Joey to acknowledge the underlying animosity that simmered between you.

You broke the silence, your voice low and edged with bitterness, "Not anymore." The words hung heavy in the air, signaling a past fraught with conflict and now, an uncomfortable present.

Joey's jaw tensed slightly, her gaze hardening as she stared out the window, a silent agreement in your response despite the tension it added to the already precarious situation.

You tried to steady your breath, the tension in the air making it difficult to relax. The silence in the van grew heavier, punctuated only by the occasional bump in the road.

You stared out the window, the night sky dotted with stars, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside the van.

The van rolled to a stop at the gates of the sprawling estate. Towering oak trees framed the entrance, their branches reaching skyward in a silent salute to the wealth that defined the property.

The mansion itself was a masterpiece of architecture. Gleaming windows reflected the moonlight, casting shimmering patterns across the manicured lawns that surrounded the estate.

Your eyes glimmered at the sight, staring at the mansion in shock. Wondering if this was how some people actually lived.

However, before you could open the car door to exit, the man with glasses glanced back again, his expression just as dark as before.

"Just to make things clear, you're not doing a shit." He snapped, jabbing his finger in your direction. "I'm not having some stupid fucking kid ruin everything for us."

"What the fuck?" you blurted out, feeling a surge of frustration. "If they didn't think I was capable, they wouldn't have sent me the message to come"

Your eyebrows knit together in annoyance as you leaned back in your seat, processing the implication of being underestimated. The comment stung, igniting a resolve to prove them wrong.

But you knew better than to act out. Three full-grown adults capable of kidnapping a child? They could do anything to you if you crossed them the wrong way.

So unfortunately for you, fortunate for the rest of them; you didn't do anything.

You followed them through the house, silent as a shadow, observing their movements. You watched as they found a secure hiding spot and brutally put the girl to sleep.

The weight of the situation pressed heavily on your shoulders as you stood witness to their intense planning, knowing that every moment counted in this risky endeavor.

Especially when the alarm went off.

You weren't much for panic or fear, but getting caught trying to kidnap a little girl would certainly not bode well for what was technically your first criminal activity.

But it worked out in favor.

Back in the van, the amount of people doubled. Some blonde chick with blue stripes of hair, a man with ginger beard and a black man who wore a leather jacket.

The house you arrived to later on was no different from the first one, standing out only for its poor choice of location and haunting appearance.

A man dressed in a black suit claimed his name was 'Lambert' and insisted to be the leader, the rules leaving his mouth as if they were simple.

You knew very well that the whole process wouldn't be so easy. Especially now that you knew that Joey would be there.

Arguing about the names seemed to be the main subject the first couple minutes, until they were randomly assigned to you by Lambert.

Frank

Dean

Sammy

Peter

Joey

Rickles

Riley.

Riley? Was that the best he could come up with?

The name left a bitter taste in your mouth. It reminded you way too much of the girl in your seventh grade class who made fun of the woman you babysat for, claimed she was a junkie.

She ended up with a nosebleed and you with detention.

Then you remembered who the woman actually was. And all the memories came crashing down.

You yearned to shed those, to wipe the slate clean.

Which was why you thanked the Gods above for putting a bar in the house.

Everybody else seemed to be as impressed as you were, it was basically the room the whole group headed into.

The polished mahogany counter gleamed invitingly under warm light. And the pool table was not that long out of use, its felt still pristine and ready for the next game.

Amid the soothing clink of glasses and the murmurs of fellow conspirators, you felt a fleeting sense of release. It was as if this place had been crafted just for this purpose—to offer respite from the weight of memories.

You settled down into the seat next to 'Sammy', the girl with the with wannabe teenager style, who looked like she could've stepped straight out of a high school yearbook.

Reached for a glass to pour yourself a drink, but you all eyes in the room landed on you as Joey spoke up; sitting further away in an uncomfortable looking armchair.

"You're too young to drink." Joey said, her voice unbothered and determined as she leaned back in the armchair. Almost like she was your mother.

And for some reason, what she said and how she said it sparked a raging fire inside you.

"And you're too young to act like my mother," you countered sharply, your words laced with defiance and a hint of frustration you felt.

You filled up the glass and let it all slide down your throat, hoping that it fueled an irritation in Joey.

As tension hung thick in the air, Sammy sensed the atmosphere and looked between you and Joey, looking as dumbfounded as everyone else. Finally, she asked cautiously, "Um, were we allowed to share our ages or something? I thought we weren't supposed to share personal information."

Frank raised an eyebrow, nodding towards you and Joey. "Apparently they knew each other before," he remarked, gesturing between the two of you.

Peter furrowed his brow, clearly puzzled as if he wasn't in the car when it was mentioned.

At that Sammy chimed in again, her curiosity piqued. "Are you related or something?" she asked, glancing back and forth between you and Joey.

You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for discussing the subject; you were never in the mood for it. Now everybody in the house knew about it, and it was clear that they would be asking about it.

Joey didn't seem to mind it one bit. Instead she smiled weakly and answered like she could've done it in her sleep.

"Her mother's my best friend." She stood up from where she was sitting, directing her voice to Sammy who raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Was," you corrected sharply through gritted teeth, feeling the familiar sting of annoyance.

The room fell silent at that, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air: nobody seemed to know what to say next.

Instead, the conversation shifted, and you sat back, happy that no one seemed to care much about it. You listened attentively to everyone and observed their behaviors and personalities; trying to find out what kind of people they were.

You quickly realized that the man wearing glasses was aggressive with a short temper. The big, muscular man seemed oblivious and not very bright, but he was strong enough to lift a mountain if he put his mind to it. The black man with the motorcycle style was mysterious. He appeared to have a crush on Joey — as he often looked at her when she wasn't aware and spoke to her in a flirtatious manner.

The smoker, dressed in rainbow-colored clothes, was childish and seemed eager for Sammy's attention, though it was clear that Sammy had her eye on Peter.

You were great at observing things, uncovering manners and nuances that nobody else even noticed. Listing out their jobs, family lives, and relationships came as a bonus.

You had picked up the skill from Joey. She had made up the game just between the two of you to play whenever you went out for ice cream every weekend.

Observing people, figuring out stories about their lives based on their clothes and guessing their secrets based on their body language. You were good at it, great almost, but Joey was always better. And you wanted to be just like her.

Everybody in the room was now paying her to do just that—figure them out and make assumptions about their lives. Watching her, you realized you didn't want to play that game anymore. It felt too invasive, too much like prying into things better left alone.

She confidently walked around the room, collecting every dollar offered to her. With unwavering certainty, she revealed her insights: Frank had a background in detective enforcement, Peter had struggled with paternal abuse, Sammy hailed from wealth and enjoyed outdoing criminal exploits for a rush, and Dean was a nonprofessional sociopath.

To no surprise she seemed to be right on every single one of them.

However, when she arrived at you, you met her gaze with a steely expression of defiance. She almost looked uncertain, like she wanted to look away.

You were not in the mood for her to dig up your past like it was a game. "Do me, and I'll cut your throat."

Harsh. Way too harsh, but it worked since Joey walked away.

It was the fact that Joey wouldn't even have to guess your past that threw you off. She knew everything already. Almost everything.

Which was unsettling. You didn't want to share a past with her anymore. You didn't want for your past to be exposed meanwhile hers was well hidden.

Which was why you couldn't help but discreetly smirk at Frank's words, "And you are a junkie".

It was ironic, a moment of relief even. Making you realize that even her past was more transparent than you'd thought. She couldn't shield herself from having her own past exposed, despite her sharp insights in others.

_____

As if things couldn't get any weirder, the kidnapped girl — whose name seemed to be Abigail — turned out to be a vampire.

Both Rickles and Dean had been killed out of nowhere, and it was now clear that the little girl was the one who'd done it.

She had made attempts at biting every single one of you, successfully capturing a bite in Sammy's arm, leaving everyone panicked.

And now, you guys had successfully captured her in a human cage; although it was clear she didnt belong to that group of species.

Abigail, from her confinement, proudly stated that she had orchestrated the entire operation and planned everything herself. That Lambert worked for her and that the money everybody was there for, didn't exist.

And without missing a beat, she had begun to expose everyone's real names and tragic pasts, laying bare the secrets they clearly had tried so hard to keep hidden.

She revealed that Sammy's actual name was Jessica Hurney, that she had made a career out of siphoning money from her rich parents, next came hedge funds and private offshore accounts. All of the facts confirmed what Joey had guessed earlier; she only did it for the kicks, since she clearly already had enough money.

Peter's real name was Terrence Lacroix, clearly much more complicated and advanced than his brain and his way of thinking. Appearently he had history with the Montreal Broussard family; snapping next for them. Which surprised you a ton, the guy might've looked stately, but he acted like he wouldn't hurt a fly.

Then she arrived at you.

She turned her head to you with a big proud smirk plastered on her face. Her hands were clasped together as she spoke, swinging back and forth on her heels.

"Y/N L/N" She spoke proudly, everybody's eyes on you. "Deceased mother, unkown father and two suicide attempts before the age of seventeen."

You clenched your jaw, even though you weren't affected by the slightest. You already knew everything she was saying. You lived through it. And it wasn't like you were ever going to see these people again, what was the shame in letting them know?

Everybody had their gaze stuck on you, but Joey's was burning onto your skin.

"Orphan at fourteen. Going through foster care after foster care yet nobody seemed to want you permanentely. Was it because you were nothing but a burden? Or was it because you were caught stealing alcohol from most of them?" Abigail smiled proudly, and you wanted nothing but to smile back; showing her that she didn't affect you the way she thought she did. But your lips didn't move.

She then moved through Frank and Joey, and it seemed like she had invited everyone to punish and torture them for doing something to their family legacy.

Sammy had embezzled funds from their empire, Peter had stolen from them. Frank had betrayed them and Joey had accidentally caused the death of someone very important to Abigail's father.

Everybody had done something to them, but you? Hadn't done anything, for once.

____

Thinking that pulling a book from a bookshelf would help you find the way out was stupid, but what was even more stupid was that Joey thought that the walls would be breakable containing only one layer. And the fact that she got frustrated when it didn't work was laughable.

Ever since Abigail had revealed your past and managed to escape out of the cage, Joey had looked at you with worried puppy eyes; as if you were going to break down any second. Which only annoyed you.

But nothing infuriated you more than Sammy sitting herself down next to Joey, clearly trying to engage in some kind of conversation. She probably thought Joey was this amazing person that got through a bunch of tragic stuff with drug addiction and a son in the picture. But she wasn't, not in your eyes.

Joey explained that she had gotten clean, that she was planning to go back for him and start a new life with the money she took the job for.

Everybody gave her sympatic looks in return. Even Frank looked like it was getting to him.

And you were tired of it.

"That's bullshit." You stood up from the chair you were previously sitting on.

All eyes were back on you, Joey's in particular. Her eyes widened, a mixture of shock and hurt playing across her face. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension.

"What?" Joey's voice trembled, though she tried to keep it steady.

"You heard me," you said, your tone unwavering. "You weren't planning to use the money on a new life, you were going to spend it all on drugs."

Sammy shifted uncomfortably beside Joey, clearly caught off guard by your outburst.

Joey shook her head in determination to get you to stop, knowing what you were going to expose. "No." She let out, her voice almost failing her.

You scoffed, crossing your arms and looking around the room. "Do you guys want to know the actual reason my mom is dead?"

Nobody answered. You turned your glare towards Peter who watched you with nothing but pity in his eyes.

Joey's eyes, almost glistening with unshed tears, met yours. There was a flicker of something there—pleading for you to stop, perhaps.

"She died of an overdose." You looked around the room, seeing the wary and weary faces staring back at you. Feeling the weight of the words settle in the room like a thick fog.

Joey's face crumpled, and she turned away, trying to hide her regretful face with tears threatening to spill. Sammy looked between you and Joey, unsure of what to say or do. The rest of the group was equally silent, processing your revelation.

You continued, your voice growing steadier with each word. "She had been sober for 2 months until Joey decided to come over and ruin everything."

Joey's head snapped up, eyes wide but defiant. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that! I just... I wanted to-"

You scoffed, bitterness dripping from your words as you interrupted her. "Well you clearly didnt want to earn up to your mistake since you left the town the next day.

Joey's jaw tightened, her voice steady but strained as she tried to defend herself. "I panicked, okay? I didn't know what to do. I was scared."

The room was deathly quiet, everyone holding their breath. You took a deep breath and delivered the final blow, your voice cold and unwavering."Scared? You should be. Because you can't run from what you did forever."

The room fell silent again, everyone avoiding eye contact. The tension hung in the air, heavy and unspoken.

Finally, Sammy broke the silence, changing the subject to how she could lock up all the doors; that were covered with bars and lock if she found a power source.

The conversation rapidly shifted, but the impact of your words lingered, leaving everyone with a lot to think about. Mostly Joey.

You knew things would never be the same, but at least the truth was out.

The dumbest thing to ever do trapped in a house with a vampire on the loose would be splitting up. Yet Joey instructed everybody to do just that to find the power source Sammy needed, and since everyone had no clue what to do, they listened.

Peter willingly went with Sammy, since it was very clear that they liked each other. Either way it was stupid, you figured Sammy would turn into a vampire any second now.

In reality, you wanted to go alone, but unfortunately you were paired with Joey and Frank. The decision to split up seemed reckless, especially in a situation where safety was paramount.

Despite your reservations, there was no room for argument. Joey's instructions were clear, and you found yourself reluctantly following alongside Joey and Frank as they ventured into the corridors of the house.

In the midst of the tension, before you followed Joey and Frank into the corridors, Joey had pulled you aside with a determined look in her eyes. She spoke in a hushed voice, barely concealing her urgency,

'When we get out of here, you're coming to live with me. I'll make sure of it.'

There was no room for discussion as she hurriedly turned away, leaving you with a glimmer of hope in your eyes.

Every shadow seemed to move, every creak in the floorboards felt like a threat. The urgency to find the power source and secure the house drove you forward, but the unease never left your mind. Joey and Frank moved ahead with cautious determination, while you kept glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting for Abigail to appear at any moment.

___

As you anticipated, Sammy had turned into a vampire no more than a few minutes into searching, killing Peter. Then exploded from the daylight Joey reflected from a small silver platter.

Lambert's true nature was exposed; he was the same species as Abigail, working for her and her father.

And Frank, in a moment of desperation, was foolish enough to accept Lambert's offer to join the them.

While you expected his transformation to take as long as Sammy's, it happened much faster. Within moments, after Lambert almost choked Joey to death Frank's eyes changed color, and his metamorphosis was complete.

Joey made a desperate attempt to call her son, assuming none of you would make it out in human form. Her attempt ended with her leaving a voice message, as he didn't answer.

After her unsuccessful attempt to reach her son, you and she hurried to the center of the house, aware that Frank was close behind, his footsteps echoing ominously through the corridors.

As you reached the center, the dim light from a flickering bulb overhead cast eerie shadows around you, intensifying the sense of dread that hung in the air.

And Frank wasted no time in springing into action. With a sudden burst of inhuman force, he threw both Joey and you up to the second floor landing.

You landed with a painful thud against the bookshelf covered wall, as if you were a weightless doll, struggling to catch your breath as Joey scrambled to her feet.

With menacing speed, Frank flew up to the second-floor landing where you and Joey stood, taken aback by his unnatural speed and power.

His eyes was now fixated on Joey. And in a terrifying display, he seized her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. Joey struggled against his vice-like grip, grasping for air as her hands clawed his arm.

With a cruel twist of fate, Frank suddenly released Joey, throwing her backwards. At the same moment, he hurled you with his strength, propelling you over the edge of the landing.

Joey's cry of horror echoed through the air as you plummeted toward the hard cement floor below. Time seemed to slow as the ground rushed up to meet you.

And in the corner of your eye, you could see Abigail sliding on the black and white floor, allowing herself to catch Joey just in time.

But there was no one to break your fall.

It was abrupt and brutal, ending with the back of your head crashing against the cement floor with an unforgiving, bone-jarring impact.

The pain was immediate and excruciating, radiating from your scull down your entire body. You could feel the severity of the blow reverberate through your brain, a sensation that left no doubt about the damage it had caused.

Your vision blurred momentarily, and you struggled to focus on the chaotic scene around you.

Every heartbeat sent a fresh wave of agony through your head, and you could feel a warm trickle of blood pooling beneath you.

Each breath became a struggle, and your attempts to move were met with unresponsive limbs. The sounds of the fight above you started to fade, and the fact that Joey was calling your name to get up and help her, was inaudible from your side.

Not from distance but from your own waning awareness.

The cold cement beneath you was unyielding.

Numbness was spreading through your body.

And your eyes shut.

____

Joey didn't realize you were gone until the chaos had finally subsided. She had been so consumed with the fight for survival that your absence hadn't registered. It was only after the battle ended, and the adrenaline began to fade, that she noticed you weren't by her side and hadn't been at all since the fall. The shock and guilt hit her hard when she found your lifeless body, realizing that she had been too late to save you.

Joey had held onto you with tears streaming down her face.

The weight of your loss settled heavily on her, making her painfully aware that this was all your life was ever going to be.

Your life had always been a struggle. As a kid, your concerns weren't about choosing an ice cream flavor at the kiosk or picking out a dress at the shops. Instead, you worried about making sure the tap wasn't running and raising the water bill, and you focused on maintaining grades good enough to secure a well-paying job to help your mother with groceries.

What you didn't know back then was that you wouldn't get the time to find a job anyway. And now, the water bill didn't matter anymore; you didn't have a home to pay for it.

-this sucks and trust me, i’m aware, i just spent way too much dreading and time on writing this; it’s only be a waste for it to rot in drafts.

#sam carpenter #melissa barrera x reader #jenna ortega x reader #mabel x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader

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aheathen-conceivably · 3 months

Text

New Year’s Day 1934 had come and gone. In the desert, it hadn’t seemed that much different than the height of spring or the dawn of fall. The day had been hot while the night was filled with the rage of dusty wind. Only with it had come the news that they would have celebrated with gusto five years prior: Prohibition Ends At Long Last! Instead it was marked in a silent kitchen, the first bottle of legal liquor they could purchase in over a decade sitting precariously between them. No one knew if it was there to enjoy or to numb.

Each one of them clutched their own glass in guilty silence, maybe even imagining the clinking of champagne flutes that could have once accompanied this occasion. Rather than carouse in a frenzy of dance, they studiously avoided each other’s eyes, afraid to break the silence with even a sip. Everyone except Josephine.

She threw back her drink so that when she spoke her voice was slurred with anger and alcohol, “So you’re telling me you don’t even own the goddamn farm, Gio? The farm you lured us all out to.”

“Of course I own the farm, Josephine. It’s just a loan, it just means…”

“I know how a loan works. Better than you do apparently. It means if you don’t have their money in six months they take the house. It means they own you.” She turned to Antoine and Zelda, pointing her finger and her blame directly at them, “And you two knew? What the fuck have you been doing, lying and playing at being farmers while the roof over our heads slowly falls into someone else’s hands?”

Antoine remained impassive, the anger and guilt swirling in his glass turning him to stone; but Zelda’s eyes watered as she futilely tried to answer. Gio saw her panic and spoke for her, “Its my loan, Jo, and mine alone. I was supposed to have until the end of the year, okay? The bank moved up the terms on me. I mean this can’t be legal — just scooping up someone’s land like this when we had an agreement.”

“Oh the end of the year, was it? Then you could have swept it under the rug so that poor little Josephine never found out, huh? That it? Well you’re an idiot. All of you. Idiots.” She covered her face in her hands, unsure if the burning in her throat was from the whiskey or the sob she had suppressed, “Does it even matter if it’s tomorrow or December? You don’t have the money. Antoine barely earns shit, and your little farming pipe dream does nothing but keep us hand to mouth. Where’s the money going to come from? The same imagination that told you any of this was a good idea in the first place?”

Her insults finally succeeded in burying the sob so deep that she could look back up at Zelda, “I’m right aren’t I? We can’t make shit off this land?” Jo’s eyes dared Zelda to so much as try to challenge her, so all she could do was muster a guilty nod of her head in affirmation.

Jo looked back toward Gio, the anger rising as the words she really wanted to cry out stayed trapped in her throat. You all let me think you were happy. That our life was perfect and I was the problem. You let me sink and disintegrate while you lied to my face! I stayed because I love you, and this is how you repay me!

Instead she sharpened her words and her eyes into razor sharp daggers, “I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m going into town tomorrow. It’s been over a month. The saloons and the bars have to be opening back up. I’ll sling a drink, I’ll do anything. We lose the roof over our heads and it’s right on the route with the rest of the Okies, fighting for scraps and scrounging for gas while Violette starves. Pathetic, Gio. All of you. Idiotic and pathetic..."

Her speech was cut short by the sound of Gio’s chair scraping against the wooden floors, “Enough, Josephine! I told you to leave them out of it!” Then he went quiet, hands gripping the table as her steadfast gaze told him she would never be the first to back down. When he spoke again it was in a low, chilling voice that none of them had ever heard before, "And I won't let you do that. To go down there and sell yourself again."

Antoine and Josephine rose to their feet at the same time; the former’s eyes burned with threats all the while Gio stayed staring at Jo. Within a split second his voice returned to normal, full of remorse and pleading as he ran after her in a rush of apologies and reassurances.

Their footsteps echoed on the hollow porch before they disappeared on the sand below. Zelda’s fingers remained locked on Antoine’s wrist, anchoring him in place until his rage could subside. His mind was vibrating with Gio’s final words; but he looked down to Zelda, internally counting to ten as he let her face replace the images of wrapping his hands around Gio’s neck, making him feel just as trapped and suffocated as his sister did before he let him go, gasping and desperate for air.

By the time the image faded, there was nothing left in the room but silence.

He sank back into his chair, moving it closer to Zelda. The look of guilt still hadn’t left her eyes, and seeing it, Antoine’s anger settled into worry. She didn’t hesitate to speak to him the way she had to Jo, “I should go after her, shouldn’t I? I should have told her. I’m her friend. Her sister…”

As her words dried up his stepped in, “I know, Zelda. I know. But we couldn’t. How could we?” He already knew that she didn't have to answer, because they had tried to absolve their complicity a dozen times. At their most avoidant, they had told each other it wasn’t their lie to tell. But beyond their deepest desire to avoid the conflict at all costs, they both knew that with each lie to Josephine’s face they had made it their betrayal just as much as Giorgio's. Only they were backed into an impossible corner, simply hoping the loan would be paid off and it would never come to this; otherwise, it meant they might lose Josephine or their home, perhaps even both.

Now that it had, all they could do was repeat what they had told themselves and each other for years. “They love each other, you know that. They’ll work it out. They have to.”

Zelda answered with a small nod, still unable to take her eyes off the door left open to the desert beyond. Across its stillness she could swear she heard arguing. She knew that she couldn’t convince Josephine to stay, the same way that she couldn’t have told her and jeopardized her daughter’s home and happiness.

So she let Antoine pull her head down onto his shoulder, gradually coming to the real question boiling under the surface. But where are we going to get the money? Only it was no use voicing it, not when they and Gio had already discussed it a dozen times over. Both of them had looked for work, and however many times Zelda offered to do the same, they all came to the same conclusion: they couldn’t sell what they grew, but at least they could eat it. She was the only one who could really ensure they wouldn’t go hungry, and the one who’s presence at home was actually the most vital of them all.

So all they could do was sit and wait to see if Josephine would stay. Wait and hope.

#so it begins #1934 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #Zelda darlington #Antoine Duplanchier #Josephine Duplanchier #Giorgio Mistretta

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

Text

Feeling Blue Without You - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: Working at Hansen Security can be stressful. What would happen if you left?

Words Count: 2,365

Warning: None

Author's Note: Hello, everyone; this one-shot is for the Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge hosted by @hansensgirl and @cuttlefjsh. I chose the prompt: "Now, I'm gonna stop you right there, cupcake."

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more

“Sir, we need backup,” the agent said urgently to his boss, Lloyd Hansen, the head of Hansen Security. They were pinned down and surrounded by their opponents.

Standing before him, Lloyd clenched his jaw and grabbed his comm. “Send the reaper drone,” he commanded.

“No,” came the reply.

Lloyd's eyes narrowed. “No?”

‘BANG!’

A bullet whizzed past, forcing Lloyd to duck. “Can you hear that? They're shooting at us!” he barked into the comm.

“I did. I saw everything.”

“Then send the fucking drone!” Lloyd demanded, his voice rising in desperation.

“No. The air force won’t let us borrow the drone again since you destroyed it last time,” the voice replied coolly.

Lloyd rolled his eyes, frustration boiling over.

‘BANG!’

He ducked again, muttering a curse. “I'm dying here. If you don't want to use the drone, then what's the alternative?”

“I already sent one,” the voice replied.

“What?! A miracle?” Lloyd's voice dripped with sarcasm and desperation.

“1,” the voice started to count.

“What are you doing?” Lloyd snapped, glancing around nervously.

“2,” the voice continued.

“What does that even mean?” Lloyd demanded, his grip tightening on his weapon.

“3.”

“BOOM!”

In an instant, a missile landed, obliterating their opponents. The shockwave knocked Lloyd off his feet. He wiped the dirt from his eyes, coughing.

“Can you tell me beforehand?” he shouted into the comm, exasperated.

“I did, but no one replied,” the voice said, a hint of amusement in the tone.

Lloyd took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “I'm sorry. If you were here, you’d understand that no one could answer you because we were trying to hide from everyone shooting at us!”

“I'm sorry,” the voice replied, more sincerely this time.

“Fine. At least you made a good decision. Just don’t let it happen again,” Lloyd growled.

“Now send an aircraft to pick us up,” he ordered.

“It’s already on the way,” the voice replied.

“Good,” Lloyd muttered before turning off his ear comm. He sighed heavily, feeling more exhausted from the conversation than the fight.

Compared to Lloyd’s precarious situation, the person on the other end was in a much safer location.

“He’s a little bit angry, but at least we avoided any casualties,” one of the IT team members said, glancing up from their console.

“That’s what I aim for. Less paperwork too,” you replied, a hint of satisfaction in your voice.

You took off your ear comm and set it down on the table. “And we can get more bonuses.”

“Yes,” everyone nodded in agreement. Working at Hansen Security was stressful and dangerous, but the high salary made it worthwhile, especially with you.

Since you became the damage control advisor, the job has become less stressful because the team could depend on you to handle Lloyd’s wrath. Your nickname, "Raven," truly lived up to its reputation.

You used to work in the CIA, but even the corrupt officers there found you too irritating. So, they sent you to the most annoying person they could think of—Lloyd Hansen.

Even Lloyd couldn't stand you. Since you arrived, he found himself unable to do whatever he wanted. He used to revel in his freedom, operating without constraints. Now, there were rules and regulations, and you enforced them rigorously.

Lloyd frowned as he recalled the changes you'd implemented: no more casualties, no more shooting innocent civilians, no more reckless actions. He scoffed, shaking his head. He used to thrive in chaos, but you had stopped that.

Since you came on board, Lloyd has noticed that the calls from Carmichael or Susan have stopped. He used to hear, “Lloyd, keep it down,” or “Lloyd, what are you doing?” almost daily. Now, there was silence on that front.

He grimaced, remembering how he'd been forced to adjust his tactics. He clenched his fists, feeling the constraints you'd placed on him. He couldn't stand the way you had imposed order on his operations.

You, meanwhile, were fully aware of Lloyd’s resentment. As you leaned back in your chair, you glanced at the team, seeing the relief in their eyes. They appreciated the structure and safety you brought, even if Lloyd didn’t.

💉💉💉💉

Lloyd arrived back at the mansion, dragging his feet because of the wound. “Shit. I need a medic,” he groaned.

“They’re taking care of the others who really need it,” you replied, your tone matter-of-fact.

Lloyd fell silent, realizing that it was only you to help. You were already standing there, holding a medic kit. “Don’t scare me like that,” Lloyd holding his chest.

“You? Impossible,” you scoffed as you cut his pants with scissors to address his wound.

“Geez, you reject going on a date with me but are eager to rip my pants,” Lloyd quipped, wincing as you applied antiseptic.

“Well, if we can’t be lovers, at least we’re good partners in crime,” you shot back.

Lloyd smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “How do I look? Do I look handsome?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You raised your eyebrows, used to his random questions. “You have a muscular body and a good-looking face. You’re good in every outfit.”

Lloyd fell silent for a moment, then leaned closer to you, his expression serious. “Don’t say those kinds of words to anyone else—man, woman, I don’t care. Just me. Alright?”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, whatever you say, Lloyd.”

Despite the banter, there was a palpable tension between you two. It was clear you both hated and cared for each other at the same time.

As you finished bandaging his wound, Lloyd watched you with a mix of irritation and appreciation. “You’re good at this,” he muttered.

“Better than bleeding out,” you replied, standing up and packing the kit.

The others nearby were already used to your dynamic. They exchanged knowing glances but didn’t interfere. This was just another day at Hansen Security—filled with banter and tension, but always under control.

“Try not to get shot next time,” you said, turning to leave.

“Try not to worry about me so much,” Lloyd said, smirking.

🍸🍸🍸🍸

After an exhausting day, you always head to the bar to ease your stress. Swirling the ice cubes in your whiskey, you find a small semblance of relaxation in the motion.

Working in damage control with Hansen Security is stressful and demanding, and you often wonder what would have happened if you had never accepted the job.

“Are you really that stressed?”

You’re startled by the familiar voice and look up to see Susan standing beside you.

“Today I just stopped an unnecessary war. If you think that's not stressful, sure,” you reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you take a sip of your drink.

Susan makes an ‘ooh’ sound, clearly impressed with your ability to tame Lloyd. She pulls up a stool and sits next to you, her eyes studying your face.

“Perhaps I can help ease your burden,” she says, her voice softening.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

“Our boss wants to hire you to work at headquarters. He likes the way you limit the damage Lloyd makes,” Susan explains, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Really?!” you exclaim, a wave of relief washing over you. “When can I go there?”

“Anytime you want,” Susan replies with a smile.

Without hesitation, you down the rest of your whiskey and stand up, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. You grab your jacket, a newfound energy propelling you forward.

💥💥💥💥💥

Lloyd had just come back, and the atmosphere inside the mansion felt different. Had someone been here? He was sure of it. “Susan, what the heck are you doing here?” he demanded, storming into the room.

“I’m the new damage control advisor,” Susan replied calmly, standing her ground.

“Oh, hell no. Where is she?” Lloyd’s voice was sharp, almost frantic.

Susan’s expression remained neutral. “She’s working with the boss now.”

“Without my permission?!” Lloyd’s voice rose, his anger palpable.

Susan was taken aback. She hadn’t expected him to be this furious. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to stay composed. “Don’t blame me. It was the higher-ups who wanted her.”

“She also gave her resignation letter,” she informed him.

Lloyd stood there, stunned. You had just left without saying anything? He couldn’t believe it.

That night, Lloyd couldn't sleep. He never thought he would feel so blue after you left. When you first started working with him, you were a nuisance, always blocking every plan he made. He hated you for it.

But as time went by, your presence became indispensable for both the job and him. He liked to tease and flirt with you, even though it was futile since you never broke your cold demeanor.

Now, with Susan replacing you, he knew she was waiting for him to fail. She didn’t care if he made mistakes. She wanted him to be ruined. She didn’t care if the mission succeeded or failed.

Unlike you, who were strict but cared for him, watching out for his safety and the success of the mission.

Lloyd sat on the edge of his bed, staring into the darkness. He realized just how much he had relied on you, not just for your skills but for your unwavering dedication. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and sadness mixing within him. He missed your stern yet caring presence, and it gnawed at him that he hadn’t appreciated you more when you were there.

Susan might be in your position now, but she could never replace what you brought to the team or him.

🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢

Lloyd stormed through the office, pushing away the secretary and security guards who tried to stop him from entering Monsieur Francis' office room.

“Mr. Hansen. What do I owe the pleasure of this abrupt visit?” Monsieur Francis, the French millionaire and main sponsor of Hansen Security, looked up calmly.

“I want her back,” Lloyd stated firmly.

Monsieur Francis leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. He had always needed Hansen Security to clear his path but despised the chaos and repair bills Lloyd often caused.

“But she likes it here. It's less stressful,” Monsieur Francis replied diplomatically.

Lloyd slammed his fist on the glass table, causing it to crack. “No one can replace her.”

Monsieur Francis raised an eyebrow, maintaining his composure. “There’s nothing I can do. She came here of her own accord, and we welcomed a talented person like her with open arms.”

Lloyd's voice hardened. “Let her go, or I will expose all your misdeeds to the world. Everyone will be shocked to learn that the philanthropist has blood on his hands.”

Monsieur Francis clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. “Leave. Before I change my mind. This is the last time you disrespect me.”

Gritting his teeth, Lloyd turned and stormed out of the office, leaving Monsieur Francis behind.

Lloyd leaned against the wall in the hallway, his chest heaving with frustration and anger. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling defeated. He knew threatening Monsieur Francis was risky, but he was desperate to bring you back.

🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁

Clueless about what was happening on the top floor, you were in the midst of a meeting with your new team. It felt surprisingly relaxing compared to your time at Hansen Security. The atmosphere was blissful, and you were starting to feel a sense of ease in your new role.

Suddenly, the door burst open, startling everyone in the room. All eyes turned as Lloyd stormed in, his expression furious. You stood up in shock as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the building, leaving the room in stunned silence.

“Lloyd, let go,” you demanded, trying to free your hand from his grip.

“If you don’t want me to make a scene here, just be quiet,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes darting around at the onlookers.

“I don’t want to work with you,” you asserted firmly, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Now, I’m gonna stop you right there, cupcake,” Lloyd retorted, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped, remembering the time he had discovered your pajamas with cupcake patterns and found it amusing.

“You don’t belong here. Like it or not, you’re going to stay close to me. Didn’t you say we’re perfect partners in crime?” Lloyd’s voice was insistent, almost pleading.

Damn, this man, you thought, feeling both frustrated and reluctantly intrigued. You couldn't seem to escape him.

Lloyd's jaw was clenched, his eyes searching yours with a mix of determination and vulnerability. He took a step closer, closing the physical gap between you, his presence commanding attention.

“Lloyd, this isn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“Just... stay close,” he implored softly, his voice rough with emotion.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his words and the intensity of his gaze. Despite your better judgment, there was an undeniable pull towards him—a magnetic force that defied logic and reason.

“I...” you began, uncertain how to respond, your own emotions in turmoil.

Lloyd reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of something unspoken between you.

As you stood there, caught in the charged atmosphere, you realized that resisting Lloyd was futile. Whatever lay ahead, this moment marked a turning point—a shift towards a future where boundaries blurred, and the lines between duty and desire became increasingly intertwined.

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