#the power this bench holds

[koboldkind]

I cried at a park yesterday. I'm sure the secret agent reading his newspaper on the bench next to The Bench appreciated it.

[moeblob]

Demyx (my beloved)

[miakwat]

​A little part of me thinks they let Kai learn rising dragon first as an apology for him repeatedly losing his powers throughout seasons 11-15

[frogaroundandfindout]

Vienna but make it about dick grayson talking to Tim so he doesn’t end up like Jason

[3416]

the thing about the mitch talk that makes no sense is like. yes, an organization CAN get someone to waive their nmc by saying they're not going to pay what he wants and it would be better for everyone involved to get on board with the idea of a trade if that's the path the organization has Most Certainly decided on, but mitch marner has all the leverage with the leafs in this situation, and it still hardly makes sense to force that or be sure of it at this moment. IF they approached him about not wanting to sign him for what they know he's going to ask which is prob 11.5-12.5 i'd guess (which... why THIS year would suddenly be the year they changed their mind about having a forward group make so much after signing absolutely ridic contracts last year is already lol and before a huge one comes off the books w jt... like.. flkdjs it feels like a fan fueled narrative of frustration here), that would essentially force him into giving them a list of teams he'd be willing to go to. it will be a short list of competitive teams who also are not going to want to be giving up much. the LEAFS would then have to find a trade that works within those very specific teams and is worth it to them, and they might say fuck it, mitch will be the better option to try to get us to the post season this year. and then be a) forced to let him walk for nothing in return if they still don't want to sign him at the end of the year or b) tempted to give him an extension where he MIGHT have driven up his own price based on performance that year. like it just. this narrative that mitch marner in the last year of his contract with a full nmc will be somehow forced out of the leafs and that's the LIKELY outcome is so ????????? tell me one trade where this team improves w the guys out here on expiring deals as it stands rn and why the organization would see improvement bc i can tell you they aren't just going to trade for the sake of cap space. i know the trade deadline and everything will also come into play if he hasn't been re-signed by then, but there's a very real chance mitch marner drives up his own price the way nylander did and then what. people are going to be even more furious like ??? just the surety with which people act like it is happening and Has to Happen despite not knowing whats available on the market or having a genuine proposal is actually terrible for the leafs, lol.

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list. 

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary. 

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look. 

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing. 

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time. 

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary. 

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you. 

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day. 

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no. 

At least it was mutual.

[darkbluekies]

In the dungeon

yandere!king oc x fem!reader

Summary: after disrespecting him, you've found yourself in his dungeon. Edmund comes to visit you because he has heard that you haven't eaten in three days

Warnings: self starvation, punishment, toxic relationship,

Word count: 1.1k

He doesn't like it, but what choice does he have? If people found out that he doesn't punish his own wife, what would they think of him? That he's not a well respected leader because he can't even punish his own wife? No, he can't have that. He has to do it. But by doing it, he also feels pain, so it's a punishment for both of you. That's how he explained it.

You had disrespected him, belittled him and his masculinity. And now you're here. Easier said than done. Saying the words to him was easier than doing the time for them.

Your head hangs low as footsteps echo down the spiral stone stairs. You don't look up to see who it is, don't care who it is. Another guard to switch swift.

“Oh, my love …”

You look up. Edmund is standing on the other side of the metallic bars, wearing his clean, colorful clothes made out of the finest satin. He places a plate with a silver cloche on the bench beside him. You pull yourself up from the floor slowly, back sore from resting against the stone wall for eternity and stomach empty. Edmund's ice blue eyes follow your every step. It's not often that they contain any type of emotion, but seeing you like this brings out a deep worry that seems to make his eyes glow.

You drag yourself over to the door, which is nothing more than metallic bars. You hold onto one of the cold metal rods. Edmund places his hand over yours.

“The guards have told me that you haven't eaten in three days”, he says softly, as if you could break if he raised his voice even a decibel louder. “You can't do that, Y/N. You can't worry me like this.”

As if he would have eaten that stale bread and drink that moldy water, you think.

“Can I come up now?” you whisper. “I want to get out of here”, you cry weakly. “Edmund, please …”

Edmund shakes his head carefully.

“No, not yet”, he answers with a heavy sigh. “It's going to be okay, darling”, he reassures you softly, kissing the hand he's holding. “Soon, you'll be back with me, okay? Believe me, I want nothing more than to let you back upstairs and have you in my arms, but they would think I was incompetent in my role.”

He wipes one of your tears apologetically.

“Do you care more about your power than you do me?” you whisper.

He looks taken aback, unable to know what to answer.

“Don't be like that”, he says. “You know I love you more than anything else.”

But not enough, apparently, you think and sniffle.

He looks behind you, around the cell.

“I brought some food from the kitchen”, he says. “I want to see you eat it before I leave.”

He gestures for the guard to unlock the door as he bends down to pick up the plate. You back away from the door, finding your safe spot on the floor by the opposite wall. Edmund walks over, checking the floor before hesitantly sitting down.

“Do you have to sit on the dirty floor?” he mumbles dislikingly.

“I like it”, you reply.

“Alright, alright.”

Despite grimacing and dusting of his satin clothes, he makes himself comfortable on the hard, dirty floor and opens the cloche. The smell of boiled potatoes and marinated meat meets your nose, and the sight is even more exquisite. He takes out a silver fork from his pocket, stabs one of the potatoes and holds it to your lips. You open your mouth, letting him feed you. It tastes better than you remember it to. It has only been a week since you got locked down in the dungeon, but without anything to do, without necessities and comfort, the hours creep by. For all you could care, a month could have gone by. The only form of company you've had have been the rats crawling around on the floor, just big enough to squeeze through the metal bars. They bite.

“Tasty?” Edmund asks.

You nod. Anything that the kitchen prepares is delicious — or at least a thousand times better than the rock hard bread and dusty water.

“Good”, the young king says, pleased, feeding you another fork full of meat. “It makes me feel better to see you eat.”

Eating the food he has brought for you reminds you of how badly you want to vet out of here … and how much your comfort relies on Edmund.

Edmund wipes away a sauce smudge on the corner of your lips and sticks it between his lips to lick it off. You doubt he would do that to anyone else. Ever. He has certain liberties with you which he has with no one else. He can hug you, touch you, smile at you, joke with you. You give him life in a way no one can.

“You should see how restless my hours without you are”, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I'm a walking bomb without you. I almost feel bad for my secretary.”

“Then let me back up …”, you whisper, a last attempt to try to plead with him. “Please.”

“I can't. Not yet. I've already given you special treatment and advantages no one else has gotten. If I let you back upstairs before an appropriate time my authority will be questioned.”

“I'm sorry, Edmund.”

Your voice is barely audible. His hand stops dead in its track on its way to your mouth. A drop of sauce falls down on the floor. You can see that it hit him right in his heart, shattering it.

“Oh, I know”, he reassures you and feeds you the piece of meat. “I know, darling. I believe you.”

You chew slowly, swallow slowly. The food seems to get stuck in your throat.

“Good girl”, Edmund praises. “You can hold out a little while longer, can't you? Just a few more days?”

You nod in defeat. What other choice do you have now that your pleading didn't work?

Edmund stands up. You follow him panicked, quickly reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“No!” you shriek. “Dont leave me. I don't want to be alone!”

“It's getting late”, Edmund answers. “I thought that I would let you get some rest.”

“No … not alone … please. Please stay. Just a little while longer.”

He thinks for a second. “Okay.”

You breathe out in relief. He sits down with his back against the wall, letting you fall asleep against him, wrapped in his warm, strong arms. Leaving him alone with his thoughts — his conflicting, torturing thoughts.

When you wake up the following morning by the sun shining through the little window pane you're alone, lying on the floor, covered by a colorful cape made out of the finest satin.

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. angst; smut (p in v unprotected sex; handjob - logan receiving; oral - reader & logan receiving). canonically bisexual reader. mentions of pregnancy attempts. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: in the Void, after leaving the other dead in your own timelines, you and Logan are reunited.

words: 8.5k.

notes: this was inspired by not your man by @studioghibelli and the worst logan by @coweye! please go and read both these fics and show their authors some love, they are both incredibly talented writers who deserve it! dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

The past couple of days have been a lot. 

To be honest, anything that isn’t sitting at a bar drinking the place dry is a lot to Logan nowadays. He’s used to low lights, rumbling conversation around him, the fuzzier end of consciousness. Even now he aches for a drink, knowing he’ll have to wake up sober next to the asshole in red he spent the night putting down in that fucking minivan. 

He hopes, at least, he has been met with all the surprises that this place can afford him. 

Ah. But that’d be too fucking easy, right?

That Cajun bastard’s liquor sits comfortably in the cradle of his palm and he chases away lucidity one swig at a time. Tries to block out the half-baked plan Wade is concocting with the other poor bastards who have been stuck here, even if it’s all probably pointless. He only chimes in to laugh at their hope. 

Then Elektra turns, withering pity in her eyes, and seems to properly assess him for the first time. 

“They’re gonna be so disappointed when they see you.”

“Who?” he snorts, past the point of caring that he’d disappoint anyone. It’s then that Elektra hits him like a fucking freight train with just one word spilling from her lips: your name. 

Logan feels a flood of memories come back to him. Ones he’s spent too long trying to drink away. The early morning when you’d hide under the blankets together, your hand cradling his face and letting the whole world consist of just the two of you. The stolen kisses in quiet corridors so the students at the mansion wouldn’t catch you and start silly little rumours. 

Him holding your lifeless body in his arms surrounded by the rubble of what used to be your bedroom, your powers unable to save you. 

He doesn’t have anything to say, merely spitting vitriol to anyone who tries to speak to him, even that damn kid who still prefers the other dead Logan to him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s a fucking mess, worth less than nothing, and that Logan was a hero. 

He retreats in the evening to lick his wounds or, hopefully, drown them. People keep trying to fucking talk to him and he does not want it. Yet they’re fucking relentless, like the Void is perfect at creating gut punch after gut punch for him. Laura walks away into the darkness after successfully making him feel like shit - not that it’s difficult these days - and when he hears more footsteps he assumes it’s Wade coming to harass him about tomorrow. 

“Oh, will you fuck off - ?” he snarls, but the sight of you there, half lit by a dying fire with orange dancing on your skin, oh, it just kills any venom he can muster dead in his throat. 

Logan is looking at a ghost and he has never been less prepared for anything in his long, long life. 

Your mouth has fallen open into a soft “o” as you look at him, brows knitted together as you take in every imperfect aspect of his being. 

“Lo?” you whisper. Your voice hasn’t changed. 

“Logan,” he replies, gruff, unsure if he’s confirming or correcting. But fuck does it sound good to hear his name out of your mouth again, even if it’s just a syllable. 

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and take a seat on one of the logs which has been pulled up as a makeshift bench. He tries not to watch the way the fire lights up your eyes. There’s an agonisingly long pause before you finally attempt conversation.  

“Long time no see, huh?” you ask with a weak grin. Fuck. It’s like a dagger. Your humour was always something which endeared you to him. Unlike Wade you never took it too far, cultivating your sincerity with your silliness in order to grow yourself into peoples’ hearts. 

His heart especially, and now it aches. 

He grunts, because he can’t bring himself to actually say anything. Can barely look at you. You keep talking, either not noticing or barrelling on regardless. 

“You know, when the gang said that you were here… I didn’t believe it. Thought there was no way a fucking Wolverine would fall into this place.”

“Let me guess,” he sneers, taking another long drag of bourbon, “I’m not what you expected.”

You laugh, an easy little thing, and part of him hates you for it. For reminding him of how it sounds. 

“I mean, you’re not. But not because of what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” It comes out as a snap, lip curling back over his teeth in disgust. You do not look bothered in the least, just crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. 

“Because I know you, Logan. Knew my Logan too. Bet you’re spiralling, making yourself out to be some kinda disappointment. Well you’re not. You could never be.”

He desperately wants to argue but he simply doesn’t have the gumption. Besides, it’s nice to hear someone say something kind about him after all these years. 

“So,” you say after another one of those painful pauses, “considering every time you look my way you wince, you have a me in your timeline?”

He laughs without any humour in it, stares into the flames for so long they start to hurt his eyes. 

“Yeah. I did.”

“Ahh. ‘Did’. I died, then?”

You say it so flippantly, he can’t fucking stand it. 

“Mmm.”

“Makes sense. Don’t think I’d leave you in any timeline, so the only way I could see us ending would be if I wasn’t there any more.” You sigh, stretching your legs out to warm them. “Can I ask how it happened? Call it morbid curiosity.”

He absolutely does not want to talk about this. But, also… it’s you. Maybe not the you that was his, exactly, but it is you. Perhaps you deserve to know. He tries to stay dispassionate, as if he is a doctor quietly recounting the facts of death to a family member. 

“Mansion was attacked. Everyone died, including you. I wasn’t there. We’d had a fight, I went out drinking. When I got back you were gone.” He flexes his fist around the neck of the bottle, trying to avoid shattering it, but desperately needing to hold onto something. 

“Oh.” The fire crackles loudly. “What did we fight about?”

This will kill him. He will die in this Void. 

“You wanted to do another round of IVF. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.”

The words settle like a cloud of choking ash over the two of you. He takes a long drink. What a fucking failure he is, couldn’t even knock you up properly. 

“Fuck, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it help if I tell you I probably wasn’t that mad? I’ve never been really angry with you, you know. My Logan… we used to bicker a lot, we both had short fuses, but it never meant anything in the long run.”

He doesn’t know if it does help or not. Is it better to know that you died hating him, making it easier? Or that you were snuffed out while loving him the whole time?

“Your turn,” he says, because he can’t bear to continue this particular line of conversation, but for some reason he wants to keep talking to you. Your voice is a comfort he thought he’d long since lost. 

“You wanna see a picture?” you ask, a grin pulling at the sides of your mouth. No, he doesn’t, but when you reach into your jacket to grab the photograph, he finds himself holding his hand out to take it. You slowly float it over, telekinesis absolutely unnecessary - but you always did use it to make the little things easier. 

It’s old. Frayed and disintegrating at the edges, a thing which has been held and looked at over and over again. Faded slightly despite the fact that you clearly try to take good care of it. 

“Oh,” he says, eyes widening. You chuckle. 

“I know.”

Because, despite the lack of facial hair and addition of a decent rack, the woman with her arm around you in the photo is him. 

The Logan in the picture is about as butch as they come, decked out in a Wolverine’s trademark flannel and leather. One of her arms is wrapped around you to keep you close against her, the other playfully flipping the camera off with a middle claw, and she’s laughing with a joy he hasn’t seen on his own face for years. You’re pressing a kiss into her cheek and hanging onto one of her thick biceps. The two of you exude happiness. 

“She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She could be a mean cunt sometimes, smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, but fuck we were the centres of each other’s world.” You let out a long sigh and hold your hand out - Logan goes to give you the photo but instead you gesture for the bourbon. He passes it and you and you drink deeply, gratefully. “I’d been in a string of bad relationships. Guys who took me for granted, women who were toxic but I didn’t realise until I was in too deep. Then she came along and well… she was a fucking angel in plaid.” 

Logan’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the photo. He’s pretty sure there’s a near-identical one back in his timeline. 

“Our mansion was attacked too. She died getting the kids out.”

Fuck. Fuck. No, he can’t do this. He can’t face the way he should have died. He really is the fucking worst Wolverine. He snatches the bottle back from you, you give no resistance, and he polishes it off. The photo flutters to the ground. 

“I think it’s time you fucked off,” he growls out. You roll your eyes, fucking roll your eyes at him, something his version of you did on pretty much a daily basis, and the knife in his heart twists further. 

“Well, Logan, I’m not gonna do that. Because this conversation is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t. He does. He wants you to disappear forever. He wants to hold you close and kiss you, beg you never to leave again. He hates you. He loves you so, so much. 

He’s such a ruined man that it is laughable. 

“So what, I come along and just replace your little girlfriend? First Wolverine that you manage to get your hands on; is that what you’re hoping for?”

You bark out a laugh. It echoes around the trees. There are tears in your eyes when he turns to look. 

“Girlfriend? Logan, you were my fucking wife!” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that the laughter engulfs you, peals of giggles that double you over. You hold your head in your hands and it soon turns to bitter sobs. He wants to reach out and hold you, apologise for ever making you sad. He tries to get any lingering drops from the bourbon instead. 

“We got married at the mansion. Charles officiated. The kids made us cards. We didn’t get a honeymoon because we didn’t have the fucking time. We had five years. Five really happy years and you know what? We wanted a baby too. We were getting a donor lined up! And then when the attack happened you were the one getting all the kids out I begged you to come with us but you were too fucking good, you had to stay behind and make sure nobody followed us. And it cost you your fucking life. They ripped you apart Logan. I know because all I found of you was your head and your wedding ring. I didn’t even get time to mourn because I had a dozen children to fucking take care of! And I did because I knew that’s what you’d want me to do. It’s what you died for. So I lived in the fucking woods with all of them for years, and they were my family, and I made sure they were as safe and happy as I could make them. And you know what happened then? When they were all grown? A fucking TVA agent appears out of nowhere and tells me, ‘oops! Sorry! Your Logan wasn’t supposed to die, it was meant to be you!’ So they fucking throw me in this hellhole to rot away into nothing and I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry that when I heard you were here I got my fucking hopes up that you might be happy to see me, because if there was one person who understood all of the shit I’m going through then it might be you.” You throw your head back up to stare him dead in the eyes. “And it’s pathetic because you know what? Even after all this? I’m still not angry with you. I’m still happy you’re here. Because seeing you makes me feel better, despite everything.”

It’s a long-ass rant, and your words hang in the air after you’re done. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He opens his mouth to apologise but the words just won’t come out. Because, yeah, if he really dissects himself and looks at the parts laid bare, he’s glad you’re here too. 

He reaches down to rescue the photo before an ember lands on it, gingerly extending into you. When you take it back his fingers brush yours. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves. 

“Who was the donor?” he asks eventually. That does a lot to alleviate the mood, and you smile through tear-streaked cheeks. 

“You might not like the answer.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was Scott.”

“The two of you got on okay! Butted heads a lot but he was always a good friend to us. Plus it was cheaper than going through an agency.”

He growls to himself and it makes you laugh, but properly this time. Things have started to soften and it’s… nice. To be like this with you again. You pause for a moment, stuck on whether to ask a question; hesitate over whether it’s a good idea, then barrel on regardless. 

“Can I ask a weird question?”

“You’re dangerously close to sounding like Wade,” he replies. You groan at that idea. 

“Ugh. Fucking Deadpools, man. We get one come along every now and then and trash the place before fucking off again. Apparently there’s like, a tribe of them out there somewhere.” You give a full-body shudder. “Imagine. No, it’s nothing like that, I guess. Can you… can you take off your glove? Left one.”

He has a horrible feeling about this but when you ask so nicely, that air of vulnerability around you, well it just seeps into his fractures and breaks him open. It takes a moment but he does, flexing his bare hand in the cool air. 

You reach around your neck and pull at a thin chain he’d barely noticed. The ring at the end slides up from where it’s been resting on your sternum under your shirt, glinting as you remove it. 

“Give me your hand.”

This is a bad idea. 

He does anyway. 

You slip the ring on his fourth finger, softly twisting it to fit over his knuckle as you go. It is the perfect size. 

“Will you look at that,” you mumble, not releasing your grip on him. “She… you always told me your hands were kinda big because of the claws. Like I cared. One of my favourite parts about you.”

Your fingers trace along his, finding the spaces between them and gently slotting your hands together. Logan isn’t sure if he’s the one who closes the grasp or if it’s you, but a beat passes and suddenly you’re holding hands. 

He’s not done this with you for so fucking long. An age of aching which is relieved at the feeling of your palm up against his. 

“So now what?” he eventually has to ask. You smile. 

“Well, I mean, your Deadpool is probably gonna get us all killed tomorrow…”

“Ugh. Don’t call him ‘my Deadpool’.”

“… so I’d quite like to just spend tonight holding your hand, if that’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice final night to me.”

When you hit him with those soft eyes, what other fucking choice does he have?

You don’t speak much for the rest of the night. Eventually the fire dies out. Laura comes to seek you out the next morning, and is surprised to find you lying side by side with this other Logan, the most deeply asleep she’s ever seen you, fingers laced together so tightly with his it looks like it might hurt. 

He comes to the fight, of course; dredging up what little courage he has left in him in order to prove he’s not totally pathetic. You catch his eye and smile so wide that he feels likes he’s done at least one good fucking thing in his life. He hears the sound of you ripping into people with an enthusiasm he hasn’t witnessed for years. The last glimpse of you he gets before he jumps through the portal is you using your telekinesis to tear a man’s head off and he does not want to examine himself too closely when it sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. 

They leave you all there to face the end, but everyone knew that’s what you were all getting into. There has been a net gain and loss of nil. He never had you again. Not really. Not for anything longer than a night, and maybe that will be enough. 

Yes. That’s enough. It has to be. 

When he tells Wade he’ll go into that room, when he volunteers to die, he does it with the knowledge he’ll be doing something good, finally. Something you’d be proud of him for doing. And with you waiting for him on the other end of oblivion it really doesn’t seem too bad a fate. 

But then Wade does what he always does and fucks up his perfectly meticulous plan, and they both make it through, so he has to keep going. 

When Wade asks the TVA agent to help the group of you they left behind, Logan is sure to add on that people should get the opportunity to go back to their timelines - surely it’s what you’d want (this oddly selfless request has Wade raising an eyebrow which he ignores). After all, why wouldn’t you want to go back? It’s where you belong. Where you’ll be happiest. Putting things nice and neatly back into their place after this whole fucked-up venture. 

He doesn’t have you, but he’s still alive and wants to be, and that’s something. A lot more than he’s had for a long time now to be honest. 

His life becomes this strange little thing that’s wrapped up with Wade’s. He sleeps on his pull-out sofa until he has somewhere proper to put down his roots. Tries to lay off the booze as much as he can even if each day is a fucking struggle. Makes steps towards finding a proper place for himself; even gets a job on the door at the bar across the street. It’s okay. One step at a time. He can put himself back together like that. 

Imagine his surprise, then, when a week later there’s a knock at the door. 

He assumes it’s Al who’s forgotten her keys, or is too drunk to fish them out of her purse after bingo, so opens it without really thinking. 

The second time you’ve nearly stopped his heart in seven days. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Oh,” is what he can manage. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your go-to. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, followed you back, I suppose. The TVA were gonna send me home but I asked where you were and when the answer was ‘here’, well… didn’t make sense for me to be any place else.”

He blinks at you. After a beat of silence he can tell you hate, no doubt wondering if your choice was the wrong one, he lifts his hand to cup your face. You stiffen for a second and then nestle into his palm. 

“You’re real,” he states. You press your hand to his. 

“I am.”

He pulls you into his chest and you are more than willing to come. He feels the way you bury yourself into him, nose first, remembering what he smells like. Your arms wrap around him so tight it’s like you’re scared he will disappear when it should be the other way round: if anyone is dreaming it’s him. You bothered coming here for him. You uprooted your whole life for it. 

He could hold you forever but the neighbours are nosy and the apartment is a mess. He presses his mouth close to your ear. 

“Wanna get a coffee?”

You pull back to meet his gaze. 

“I’d love that.” Your eyes drop and you pull a face. “Oh, uhh, you might wanna get changed first, though.”

He looks down and realises what shirt he’s wearing before letting out a groan, which gets you chuckling. 

“Wilson’s letting me borrow his shirts until my first paycheck comes in. Just to slum around the apartment.”

“Oh, so you’re not ‘employee of the month at the dick sucking factory’?” You ask, reading the slogan on his tee.

“No. Looks like Wilson won out over me.”

The fact he’s made a joke hangs in the air for a moment and you burst into laughter, real actual laughter, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever heard.

He grabs the only plain shirt Wade has left out, slices off the sleeves just because, and grabs twenty dollars from his roommate’s wallet. Soon enough you’re sitting in the little café near his building. The sky is grey and overcast, just threatening to rain but not quite bothering, and the two of you are tucked away in a corner table while Taylor Swift plays over the sound system. 

Logan does not like that he knows it’s Taylor Swift. This is what living with Wade has done to him. 

You watch him with affectionate eyes across the table, making sure nobody is paying close attention before using your telekinesis to stir the little metal spoon around in your latte. You nod at his mug. 

“You take coffee the same way as she did. Boring and black.”

Logan’s nostrils flare a little in a laugh. 

“Yeah, and you take yours the same way too. So fucking dense with syrup that it’s not coffee at all.”

“Oh you were always such a coffee snob! ‘Babe you gotta try it plain first so you can appreciate the aroma’,” you say, putting on a gruff affectation as a parody of his voice. 

“You do need to try it plain f—”

He’s interrupted when a sugar lump floats into the air from the pot in the middle of the table and launches itself at him, bouncing off of his pectoral. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Real mature, bub.”

“Grouch.”

“Contrarian.”

“I’m not a—” you pause, realising there’s no way to win against that accusation, and grin at him instead. 

“Where are you staying?” he asks after a long drink. It’s not booze. He kinda wishes it was booze. But also, he knows it’s best not to go down that path again, for everyone’s sake.

“The mansion. Turns out I died in this timeline too, so you and I are two for two here” - there’s a hint of a smile at your own macabre observation - “but they were using my room for storage so they just let me have it back.” You grimace a little. “It’s been weird. It’s my space but it’s not, y’know?”

“I get that.”

He probably gets it better than anybody. Nice to have someone to share this strange, singular feeling with. 

“You should come around. Laura’s there too, I know she’d be glad to see you too.”

“She settling in okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll take a while, but everyone has been really understanding and kind. I think she’ll thrive here.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You give him a smile that lets him know you believe it. Your eyes cast over him, taking in this new, slightly more settled Logan, falling still when you see what’s pressed against his fourth knuckle. 

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

“Oh,” he replies, surprised. Flexes his fingers as he looks at it. It’s been so comfortable there, so utterly unobtrusive and right, he hasn’t even noticed. “You want it back?”

A beat passes as you consider the question. Coffee is sipped. Another sugar added and stirred, perhaps just for show. 

“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I kinda like seeing you wear it but… if you were gonna have my ring, I’d want it to be one that was meant for you.”

He lets that idea settle between the two of you. Suddenly, slowly, you’re reaching forward, laying your smaller hand over his thick, rough one. 

“Logan. I want to be with you. In every way you’ll have me, all of it. I don’t know if it was fate or god or plain luck that threw us back together but I’m certain I don’t wanna waste this opportunity. I’d love you in every lifetime, in every timeline. I can’t be without you ever again, I think it would just kill me - and if I know you, you feel the same.”

He doesn’t even bother arguing because he does. When you turned up on his doorstep a scant couple of hours ago a part of his soul had been healed; your existence like kintsugi to piece him back together. A man made of adamantium and gold. 

“I’d like that,” he manages. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes glimmer with a hope which he’s not been privy to for a long time now. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay then,” you say with a smile, and drink your coffee. 

The two of you do not take it slow. How does one take it slow when your soulmate comes back into your life? You are not exactly the same person he once knew, but you understand each other in every way which matters. Your souls fit together like puzzle pieces. The two of you are whole again. 

Then again, perhaps he doesn’t need the version of you he used to have. Maybe, now, he needs this you - rougher around the edges, a little older and more wary, a fit which is better for him. Someone who can put up with his bullshit as Al once bluntly put it. 

You barely spend a night apart. You stay over with him on Wade’s pullout (inciting an input of, “something the two of you had better do, we can’t afford a kid on my income—!” before Logan had hurled a water bottle at him) meeting up with him after his shift is done in the small hours, getting something to eat at one of the greasy spoons which remain open. He devours full plates of fatty food; you stick to slices of pie which you feed him bites of from your fork. When you get back to the apartment you cuddle up on the uncomfortable mattress which folds from the sofa and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

He sleeps pretty well nowadays. 

The two of you only realise you haven’t kissed yet when you do it for the first time. You’re making a coffee run, tugging on his jacket because you like the smell of cigar smoke and it’s thicker than yours. A little act of intimacy which has become commonplace. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Boring,” you make an exaggeration of a sigh, before leaning over the back of the sofa to press your lips to his. He automatically leans into it, tilting his head up so that he can meet you; it’s a chaste little thing, a peck between two people who will only be parted for a moment, but you pull back in surprise when you realise what’s just happened. 

“Oh!” you say with delight, eyes sparkling.

Your hand slips around his neck to cradle him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You gently pull him back for another. Longer this time. Lips slip together, moving carefully in something a little deeper. When you break for a moment it’s Logan who pulls you back. This third kiss is on the brink of hungry. He slides his tongue to swipe against your mouth and you let out a happy little hum at the intrusion. 

His arm curls around your back. With a little tug he pulls you over the back of the sofa and into his lap, making you yelp with glee. His mouth returns to yours, crushing, greedy for any little noises you’re able to make. You relax into it and are happy to take whatever he gives you. 

Wade finds you making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, coffee forgotten. He does not let Logan live it down for a week. 

The apartment is fine, but not a long term solution. Wade and Al are constant presences that stops the two of you being fully at ease together. Logan knows that invitation to go to the mansion is always there, but it’s a while before he takes it - he really isn’t sure what he’ll feel, being back at a place he last saw burned to the ground because of his pigheadedness. Might just break him all over again. 

But ah, when you nock your fingers in the spaces between his, he can face anything. 

One night, exhausted and full of diner food, he agrees to go back to yours - the two of you have had a late night coffee meaning you’re still a tiny bit buzzed, a little too much to fall asleep on the pullout. Instead you get a taxi to yours, near enough, tipping the driver well when he drops you in the middle of a random street and choosing to walk the last minutes hand-in-hand.

The mansion is quiet. Everyone is mostly asleep. And Logan does feel strange being back here, but it isn’t a bad strange. Just another aspect of this new life he has to compartmentalise. 

You drag him through low-lit halls, confident in the steps which will lead you back to your room; he recalls a similar journey from his own timeline in the night you first hooked up, smuggling him to your bed down the corridors all wandering hands and breathless kisses and giddy giggles; but there’s no part about you that wants to hide this. 

You’d show your Logan off to the world. 

You’ve tried to make the room your own, he can tell. It’s pretty big and spacious. Good view. Has an ensuite which he plans on monopolising. He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in just his boxers, arms holding you to him so he can feel every part of your body against his. His chest hair bristles between your shoulder blades and you hum contentedly. 

He agrees to come to breakfast the next morning and, to their credit, people are good at not staring. The members of the team he recognises from his past keep their distance unless he seeks to close it. Hank gives him a smile. 

“Good to see you, Logan.”

“Mmm,” he manages. Laura comes down to grab something to eat and lights up when she sees him. She gives him a hug which skews on the side of awkward but he’s grateful to receive it, and he can see how pleased you are watching this development. 

He comes around more and more often. 

Less time spent at the apartment with Wade - who constantly complains about the fact and Logan cannot tell if he’s sincere or not - more living in the pocket of you. He helps you sort out the furniture in the room so that there’s more space; you’re moving a chest of drawers to another corner together when a photo falls out from behind them. Trapped against the wall for years. Long forgotten. 

“Oh,” you say, lifting it up and bringing it to your hand with a wave. Your face twists into something strange and bittersweet, a mask Logan isn’t quite sure how to comprehend, but he quickly understands why when he joins you. 

It’s a picture of the two of you. 

Not exactly the two of you, of course; the ones of you who lived in this timeline. Logan is posing on the back of his Harley, you’re propped up on the seat next to him with your head thrown back in laughter. The two of you look… young. This must have been taken when you first started going out. 

Your thumb caresses the photo in a movement he’s familiar with. 

“Huh. Looks like we were together here, too. Who’da thunk it,” you mutter.

He slips an arm around you then because he’s feeling oddly sentimental. It’s reassuring. No matter what timeline it is, there’s a you who loves him and a him who loves you. A simple and irrefutable truth, like the fact that the sun rises every day or the moon moves the tides. 

“Apparently Magneto got me in the late noughties. Feels like a bit of a pathetic way to go, but diverging timelines, I guess.”

Logan knows that in this timeline, he stuck around for a while after. Poor bastard, he thinks. Having to live those years without you. That’s a misery he understands all too fucking well. 

But not any more. 

You leave the photo on your dresser, loathe to throw it away, and continue moving furniture to make room for the TV you just bought. Logan hates sharing the one in the living room, especially when the hockey’s on.

Eventually Logan is spending so much time with you he’s barely living at Wade’s any more. You’ve suggested they’d be happy to have him back in the mansion for a “teaching job” like you have, though he knows there’s never much teaching involved, more helping kids learn to defend themselves without too much collateral damage. Still it’s a fair chunk of change better than his current miserable doorman’s salary and it means he’d be living at more sociable hours.

Plus he’d get to move in with you, an idea you’re both secretly happy about. 

So he hands in his notice at the bar and packs the scant few belongings he has at Wilson’s into a cardboard box from Bad Dragon, which is strangely the only one Wade could find him (“god Peanut that’s so weird, oh well!”). Looks around the apartment he’s called home for some time, feels not entirely pleased to be leaving it. 

“And remember sweetie, if it all goes incredibly wrong and you realise the place you’ve belonged the whole time is on my undoubtedly piss-soaked pull out sofa bed, Al and I will be happy to have you back with minimal taunting.”

Logan fixes him with a look. 

“Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word is odd coming from his mouth but not insincere. Wade goes to say something that’s no doubt stupid and inappropriate, however he softens at the last moment. 

“Any time. Go get ‘em, tiger, I’m rooting for you.”

You’ve moved your stuff so he can have a side of the closet, and drawers in the dresser, and he resumes his life with you. 

It takes only a couple of days for him to settle and realise how much he prefers this. Living with you properly. How, really, he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. How he wants to be there for every second, hear every laugh which drips from you, comfort you whenever something threatens to ruin your happiness. 

He falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms every night. Wakes up with you there. Pretty fucking perfect if you ask him. 

There’s nothing special about the morning when you first make love except for the fact it’s the morning when you first make love. It’s a border the two of you haven’t quite crossed yet. Almost as if you’re both afraid to make the commitment, like it may break you apart; there’s perhaps an underlying fear that you’re being unfaithful to your partners from your own timelines. That being together like that dishonours their memory. 

It’s a salve, then, that the longer you’ve been together the more you realise that you don’t love each other as a stand-in for the ones who died, but entirely on each other’s own merits. He doesn’t look at you and see the body he held in the manor. He sees someone who he’d protect, give his life to, become a dog for because he’s utterly in love with this you, the one who was so happy to find him in the Void, the one who patched him back together when he was at his most broken. 

There’s nothing to second guess in this relationship. It is the most solid foundation he’s ever had, and from the way you look at him every morning as if he’s hung the stars, you feel the same. 

That morning he’s holding you particularly tight. It’s a Sunday, the quietest day at the mansion, and the two of you are in bed later than you’d usually be. You’re both awake because you’re pressing more and more into each other’s bodies, nestling together like nesting dolls. His arm slung around your waist, hips against the swell of your ass. 

You shift slightly and he feels his cock harden in interest. Why wouldn’t it? Most beautiful person in the whole world right here in his bed. He might be old but he’s not a fool. 

He’s aware your hips are moving again, pressing yourself into him harder. He lets out a quiet, gruff laugh. 

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Mmm, maybe I am, Howlett. What are you gonna do about it?”

You squeak with laughter as he surges upwards, pinning your hands to the mattress either side of your head so that he can look down at you. Such a pretty picture beneath him. Hair all fanned out, eyes sleepy and sexy, ready to take in the syrupy-slow pace of the morning. 

His lips press into yours softly but firm. You hum into the kiss, slipping your wrists from his grasp so that you can wrap your arms around his broad neck and tug him closer. Your legs slowly match pace, looping at his waist. His cock is free to press against your clothed core now and he doesn’t waste a second of the opportunity; he grinds down, never letting it distract from the kiss for a second, even smiling into it when he can feel the blunt head of his dick catch your clit. You gasp. 

“Logan…”

Oh yes, that’s it. That’s the voice. He could listen to you say his name a million times and it would still be the sweetest sound in the whole fucking universe. 

He kisses you again and again, getting more fierce now. Tongues slide together and you moan into his mouth. Teeth clack with the force of it. He wants every sense to be drowned in you. Your smell, your taste, your touch. You’re holding him so tightly it’s like you’re worried you’ll just float away from the bliss of it all.

He’d never let that happen. He’ll keep you right here in this bed, forever, if you’d let him. 

With a display of telekinesis he’s not expecting, Logan finds himself on his back. You stare down at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he’s never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask breathlessly, and he finds himself huffing out a laugh because fuck, as if you’d ever have to ask. You take his meaning and giggle before you start to make your way down the plain of his chest. A kiss dropped on the top of his pectoral, followed by you moving that sweet mouth around one of his nipples to play with it. Logan huffs and arches into your touch like a schoolgirl. You use your teeth to continue the trail, tracing around his abs - which have become less pronounced ever since he started eating right, and you’ve often expressed your pleasure at this fact - mouthing at where his muscles shape his Apollo’s belt. 

Your hand goes to palm his cock through his boxers and he has to make a concentrated effort not to come. It’s been a while since he was touched properly like this, and though he used to be able to go all night when he was a younger man, he truly doesn’t know if he has it in him today.

You seem delighted by this development though. Holding his gaze you slowly drag his waistband down to his thighs, watching in delight as his cock bobs up, half-hard. You take him in hand and pump him lazily, languidly, enjoying every stroke which makes him firmer. You prop yourself up on your free arm, elbow on the mattress and palm cradling your jaw, eyes on him like he’s the show of the century.  

“Handsome, handsome, handsome man,” you sigh, dreamily. 

“Old man,” he chuckles. 

“Not mutually exclusive.”

He has to concede that with the way you’re looking at him like you might eat him alive.  

When he feels your mouth around his cock his brain almost short-circuits. It’s warm and wet and willing, your tongue gliding along the thick vein you find there before caressing his head. Logan grunts, fisting the blankets, and a familiar snik has you looking up. You grin around his shaft when you see his claws have popped out from the intensity of his gripping hands. 

Pleased, you continue with your work. You bob up and down as the fire builds in his belly, a low heat which is soon bubbling over when he feels you press the tip of your tongue into his slit, humming with pleasure as the taste of his pre floods you. Logan is aware he’s beginning to tighten in a way which suggests that if you don’t stop now things will be over entirely too soon.

Claws retracting, his hand comes to grab your hair. His cock is enveloped in the sweet velvet of your throat, in fact he can feel himself brush against your uvula, and when you look up at him like that he almost gives up completely. He powers through though, carefully guiding you up and off. You wipe your spit-soaked mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Oh… was it not…?” you don’t voice the word ‘good’ but it hangs there anyway. Logan rumbles with a laugh.

“Fuck, it was the best thing I’ve felt in years. Wanna fuck you properly, though. Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Need to taste you.”

Your eyes go wide. Like he’s come up with the idea of the century.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

There is nothing elegant about the way you pull yourself up the length of his body, but it is filled with a primal need which is far more sexy. You pause at his abdomen in order to rub your soaked cunt across his abs a couple of times. Fucking the muscles there. You throw your head back in gratification and continue up along his chest before a strong thigh is planted either side of his face.

Looking up at you from his back is his favourite view. Logan wastes no time in clamping an arm around either one of your legs and pulling you cunt-first onto his tongue, you gasp and writhe in delight.

“Oh fuck, Logan!” you hiss. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the voice he wants to hear. All strung out with sex and pleasure because of him. He fucking buries himself in you. Kisses your pussy sloppily, changing his attention from between your clit and your folds, no rhythm to his need. When your fingers scratch his scalp in your need to grab a fistful of hair he thinks he might be in heaven. His hips buck into the air, imagining the action of taking you before he’s even properly started. You start to fuck yourself on his face. Hips grinding down onto his beard, groaning at the stubble there which prickles and pleases.

“I’m gonna--”

“Fuckin’ do it,” he mumbles from between your legs. You cum in his hot, wanting mouth; all the furniture in the room rattles as you let out a little involuntary telekinetic jolt.

You are not done. This was the appetiser. Eyes still ravenous you peel your pussy off of his face, sweeping down to kiss him so you can taste yourself there. Moaning in delight at the musk.

“Wanna ride you…”

“Anything,” he breathes because, yeah. He will do anything you ask, anything you want. He’s a loyal hound at your heel. 

When you take his cock it’s with less teasing this time, more intent. Spreading your legs wide you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down. He wants to grab. Your flesh, the blankets, anything. Sensing his desperation you hold out your hands when he’s far enough inside you and he meets them in midair, pressing his fingers between yours, knuckles white from the effort.

Hips nestle against his. You begin to move.

“Logan…” 

Your name leaves his lips in a similar whisper, dragged out through his throat from his very heart. You look down at him, eyes clear and wide and lucid despite the heady pleasure.

“Logan. I love you. I love you.”

Yes, you love this him. Not as a stand in for the Logan you lost, not as some sort of idol on a pedestal, but because you’ve fallen for him just like he’s fallen for you. He is worth loving. He is. He is worthy of you. It is a realisation which hits him with the force of a bomb. He grips you tighter.

“I love you too,” he confesses. He feels his pulse sync with yours from where he’s sheathed inside you, grips your hands tighter because he knows you can take it; you hold him back just as hard. Your hips rock in a wild rhythm as he brings his own up to meet them. It’s hard to know who’s fucking who, it’s wild and desperate and raw, but you keep chanting those words as a manta.

Logan. I love you. Logan. I love you.

He only lets go of one of your hands when he can feel he’s about to finish, dropping it to your clit in order to press rough circles there. You come messily over his cock and he spills inside you, pumping you full of him. Marking you as his.

You collapse into his arms, sweaty and spent. He holds you with arms like iron. Cock still inside, softening now, but he doesn’t want to to break the contact.

You pull back after a moment of breathing together, propping your elbow on his chest.

“Hey.”

He smiles back, a real smile, something he’s not been truly able to produce for years.

“Hey.”

“I meant it, you know. I love you,” you trace a pattern on his collarbone, silly and intimate. 

“I know. So did I.”

“Mmm, okay, good.” You kiss him and hum into it. “We should get up.”

“Probably.”

“But let’s not.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”

You laugh, and oh you are the sunlight. 

The summer heat is cloying but Wade has set up some parasols on the top of his building to hide under, he did not specify where he got them but a few local restaurants seemed to be without on the journey back to the apartment. The group of you are definitely not meant to be up here, but with the weather so hot, nobody cares enough to cause a fuss. 

It’s a small gathering. Logan stands at the grill because it’s where he’s most comfortable, supervising the chaos. That awful mutt of Wade’s is looking up at him with expectant eyes and, when he’s sure nobody is watching, he throws her a hamburger which she goes crazy for. 

And it’s… nice. He didn’t even complain when Wade put on the 1989 album. A few of his old roommate’s friends, a couple of them now mutual - Piotr is a pretty relaxed guy to be in the mansion with, and the two teens who Wade somehow befriended get along with Laura. You’re talking with Peter who for some reason is always at these gatherings but he’s probably the least offensive person here. 

He says something which makes you laugh, and you look over to Logan as you both settle. You gesture at the bottle of soda in your hand, an invitation; he nods. 

You stand, rummage in the cooler, and close the gap. He eyes the glass bottle of Dr Pepper with disapproval; you give him a playful shove. 

“C’mon, be good. You just got your one month chip. Keep it up, we’re proud of you.”

He grumbles his acceptance and takes it. It is pretty refreshing to be fair. He settled the hand he’s not using on the grill around your waist, pulling you so that you settle nice and snug against his flank. You grin up at him, pleased with the show of affection.

“Hey handsome,” you chuckle. 

“Hey gorgeous.”

“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, you know that?”

Day by day he’s letting himself believe it. That he’s the kind of man who could make someone as amazing as you happy, as over-the-moon with joy as you make him. 

Before he can answer Yukio appears by the grill, pointing a Polaroid camera in your faces. 

“Smile!” she says, and the two of you do, because she’s a nice kid and you don’t wanna let her down. She snaps a photo and watches it quickly develop, shaking it loudly in the air before admiring her work. 

“Awww, cute! I hope me and Ellie are like you guys when we’re your age. Here ya go!”

She passes over the photo before skipping away to find her next victim. Logan has to try and hide a laugh at the indignant splutters that are escaping you. 

“Our age…?!” you mutter, but soften when you look down at the picture. It’s nice. The two of you make a good-looking pair that’s for damn sure, he can almost understand Wade’s insistence of “letting him watch one night”. But most importantly, the two of you look… happy. With each other. With this slice of life. 

“This is a great one,” you declare. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

When you get home tonight, late by the time you pull up to the mansion, you’ll toe off your shoes as you walk in through the door like you always do, but this time you’ll pause to put this photo in front of the one you found behind the chest of drawers, and Logan will feel content that he never has to be without you again. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[readsaboutreid]

Cast Your Bets | S.R.

summary: (Y/N) has been at the BAU for two months now and the tension between her and Spencer has been noticeable to everyone but them. The team takes bets on when they'll finally snap but (Y/N) and Spencer over hear them and some smutty shenanigans ensue.

This is smut so it's 18+, minors please dni.

spencer x bau!reader

contains: unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation (m), fingering (f receiving), non-established relationship

this has been sitting in my drafts for few months so i figured i'd finally let it see the light of day

The team were all sat on the jet after a long case, everyone off in their own little worlds. Morgan had his headphones on and had nodded off, JJ and Prentiss were playing cards, and Hotchner and Rossi were talking about the case they had just finished in hushed tones. Spencer had run out of reading material so he was just kind of sitting and staring off into space. His eyes fell to (Y/N), her brows furrowed in concentration as she read what looked to be a well-worn book, and he couldn't help the way his heart fluttered in his chest.

Ever since she had started at the BAU, Spencer had been hopelessly infatuated with her. She was intelligent, sweet, and most surprisingly she seemed to enjoy when Spencer would go off rambling about something that would usually leave Morgan rolling his eyes or Prentiss poking him and asking, "how did they make you so lifelike?" But when he was talking with (Y/N) and he would start off on a subject, she would just tilt her head and listen with a soft smile, occasionally chiming in with a question or comment, making it more than clear she was listening to every word.

She locked eyes with him and flashed him the sweetest smile and he felt his cheeks burn with a sudden heat. "Something interesting, Reid?" She chuckled, closing the book she had been reading and setting it on her lap as she turned to face him.

"I—I was just trying to see what you're reading," he lied, unconvincingly. He swallowed nervously and a small smile twitched at his lips at seeing her smile grow even wider before he looked down at his hands resting in his lap.

She held the book up for him to see the cover. Dune.

"Dune? That's one of my favorites!" He exclaimed with a wide smile.

"When I was a little girl this was one of my favorites. My dad would read it to me before bedtime," she explained before opening it back up to begin reading again. "I read it once a year the month of his birthday."

Spencer felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of confidence and decided to take advantage of it. "Hey, uh, I finished the only book I had brought with me earlier, do you mind if I read along with you, maybe? I could just read over your shoulder or something." He bit his lip as he waited for her to shoot him down, the confidence he felt already fading away rapidly.

"Oh! I, uh, o-okay," she responded while her eyes widened a little bit in response to the request. She moved closer to him on the bench they were both seated on. He adjusted the way he was sitting so that she could lean up against him and he found himself silently hoping she couldn't hear how fast and hard his heart was beating against his chest. She opened the book, holding it up high enough for Spencer to be able to read as well and they began reading. Spencer stole the occasional glance at her, the butterflies in his stomach flying around more frantically each time he did so.

His body was in overdrive and he did everything in his power to maintain his composure. He could smell the scent of eucalyptus and lavender on her hair as she leaned up against him and he started thinking about how nice it would be to be able to run his fingers through it while her lips were wrapped around his—

Spencer shook his head, dispelling the thoughts before they had a chance to take root. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs to cover up the fact that he was becoming rather noticeably hard. (Y/N) shifted a bit, leaning further into Spencer's chest and resting her head there gently. His breath hitched in his throat before he relaxed into her, resting his arm around her shoulders and his cheek against the top of her head.

They continued reading until Spencer noticed that she hadn't turned the page in quite a while. When he looked down at her he noticed that she was sleeping quite soundly against him. He tried his best to maneuver without waking her, placing her bookmark in between the pages and closing the book. There was no way Spencer himself would be able to get any sleep right now, but Spencer tried to relax enough to at least be a comfortable human pillow. Wrapping his other arm around her, he eventually found himself getting lost in the scent of her shampoo yet again as his eyes grew heavy.

Next thing he knew, he was waking up to Morgan lightly shaking his shoulder. "Come on lover boy! It's time to wake up. We're about to land," he said in a voice loud enough to also rouse the still-sleeping (Y/N).

She shot up suddenly, her face turning a deep shade of crimson as she stammered out a flustered apology and swiftly rushed off to the bathroom, leaving Spencer to glare daggers at Derek from his seat on the now otherwise empty bench.

Later that night, Spencer found himself at home, sprawled on the couch with the familiar blue glow of the television screen illuminating the room. The soft hum of the TARDIS filled the air as he half-heartedly tried to focus on the episode of Doctor Who playing before him. But try as he might, his mind kept drifting back to (Y/N).

Her scent still lingered on his clothes, a sweet and intoxicating blend that teased his senses. Images of her leaning against him, of her hair brushing against his skin, invaded his thoughts. His body reacted to these memories, stirring with a desire that he couldn't ignore.

As the scene on the TV faded into the background, Spencer's hand began to stray lower, fingers tracing the outline of his growing arousal through his pants. He closed his eyes, letting himself fully indulge in the fantasy of (Y/N) that had taken hold of his mind.

Her soft lips against his skin, his hands exploring her body with a gentle curiosity...

Spencer reached his hand into his pajama pants, pulling out his throbbing member and wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly beginning to stroke up and down. His breathing grew shallow as his hand moved more purposefully, seeking release from the building tension within him. Lost in a haze of desire and yearning, Spencer's thoughts were consumed by the memory of her touch, her scent, her warmth as she leaned up against him. With a quiet gasp, he abandoned himself to the fantasy, his movements growing urgent as he chased the climax that beckoned to him.

The fantasies of (Y/N) moaning and writhing beneath him in pleasure became more vivid, more alluring, fueling the fire that consumed him. Every fleeting touch, every whispered word in his mind pushed him closer to the edge until finally, with a shuddering breath and a silent cry of her name on his lips, Spencer found release in the solitude of his living room. The waves of pleasure washed over him, leaving him spent and breathless, his heart pounding in his chest.

As reality slowly seeped back in, Spencer lay there in the dim glow of the TV screen, a flush of both satisfaction and guilt coloring his cheeks. He wondered how he would ever be able to look (Y/N) in the eye again, but at the same time he couldn't help but long to see her still.

With a deep sigh, Spencer finally shut off the TV, cleaned himself up, and headed to bed, his mind filled with a mixture of longing and remorse.

The atmosphere in the bullpen was buzzing with it's usual energy. Spencer and (Y/N) were hunched over their desks, papers scattered everywhere as they focused intently on their work.

Meanwhile, across the room, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, and JJ were observing the pair with playful banter and knowing looks. Their whispers floated through the air like mischievous spirits.

"Hey, JJ, how long do you think it'll be until these two finally give in to their sexual tension?" Derek asked with a cocky smirk.

JJ shrugged. "I'll give it two weeks."

Derek scoffed in response and said, "I say a week tops."

Penelope interjected, "oh please! I give it three days."

"You're all ridiculous" Emily shook her head and laughed, "I bet it'll take 24 hours, tops."

Spencer could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he overheard the playful bets being made about him and (Y/N). His heart raced at the mere thought of what could transpire between them, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within him like a storm.

As they both reached for the same file folder, their fingers brushed against each other's in a fleeting moment that sent a jolt of electricity through Spencer. His hand trembled slightly at the contact, his skin tingling with a sensation he couldn't quite describe. But he couldn't deny the rush of warmth that flooded his veins at the simple touch.

(Y/N) quickly withdrew her hand, her eyes widening in surprise as she glanced up at Spencer. Her cheeks were painted with a delicate pink blush that mirrored Spencer's own, a silent acknowledgment passing between them in that moment.

Emily raised an eyebrow as they all observed the exchange between Spencer and (Y/N). "I told you all—24 hours, no more, no less.”

Agent Hotchner's lowered voice came from behind the group, startling everyone at the table. "Less than 12 hours," he stated calmly, his eyes piercing as they turned towards Spencer and (Y/N). The sudden silence that followed his words was almost palpable, the tension thick in the air as his prediction hung over them like a heavy cloud.

As the others in the room exchanged surprised glances, Derek let out a low whistle. "Hotch, you sure about that?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

Hotch simply nodded, his expression unreadable as he turned away and walked out of the bullpen, leaving the rest of the table floored as they looked back at Spencer and (Y/N).

The gentle hum of the bullpen around them seemed to fade away as Spencer found himself lost in a daydream, imagining a world where he and (Y/N) were more than just colleagues. His heart quickened at the thought of what could be, but just as quickly, the shadow of doubt crept in.

What if she didn't feel the same way? What if their friendship was forever altered by a moment of vulnerability and desire? Spencer's mind swirled with conflicting emotions—longing mingled with fear, desire intertwined with doubt.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice (Y/N) shooting him a quick smile before returning to her work. The warmth of that smile lingered in the air around Spencer, filling him with a sense of hope and a tinge of uncertainty. Was it just a friendly gesture, or did it hold a deeper meaning that he desperately wanted to believe in?

As the day drew to a close and everyone began packing up, Spencer finally spoke up. "Hey, (Y/N)," Spencer nervously fiddled with the strap of his bag, "would, uh, w-would you want to come over and watch Star Trek tonight? We could get some takeout, you know, like we always do the weekend after a case?" She looked up at him with a warm smile that made the butterflies in his stomach flare up and nodded happily.

As they walked out of the office together, Spencer couldn't help the sweat that began coating his palms in a thin layer. He gripped the leather strap of his bag and fiddled with it to give his hands something to do. The elevator took them down to the parking garage and they approached her car. Spencer rushed to open the driver's side door for her, drawing a soft, melodious giggle from her lips that made him go weak at the knees.

He made his way to the passenger side and slipped into the seat, buckling the seatbelt and swallowing the lump in his throat. She pulled out of the parking space and they began the short journey to his apartment. On her car radio a CD started playing, and a man with a soft and pleasant voice was singing to them about a woman with a green plastic watering can and a fake Chinese rubber plant. (Y/N) hummed along to the song and Spencer looked at her from the passenger seat, and as he did so his mind ventured back to the conversation he over heard between their colleagues earlier today.

"Spencer? Why are you staring at me?" She asked with a small smile, snapping him out of his thoughts and back into reality. His cheeks burned as he silently berated himself, not realizing how long he had been looking over at her. A whole new song was playing on the radio now, the same man now singing about how he used to fly like Peter Pan.

"S-sorry, I, uh, I just, uh—hey, wh-what did you wanna order tonight?" He clumsily attempted to change the subject, looking down at his hands as he wrung them together in his lap.

"Oooh!" (Y/N) exclaimed, always excited to talk about food. "There's a new pizza place across the street from your building that I noticed the last time I came over, what if we ordered from them?"

Spencer closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, relief washing over him. "That sounds like a fantastic idea," he smiled and shot another glance her way, this time immediately looking back at his hands.

(Y/N) parked the car on the curb in front of Spencer's building and turned off the engine. They stepped out into the cool evening air and walked across the street, entering the pizza shop. The inside of the shop was small, just a handful of tables. The walls were painted a pale shade of yellow and plastered with vintage Italian film posters. The air smelled of tomato sauce and pesto, and as they approached the counter a middle aged woman with a red apron over her blue dress pushed through the door in the wall behind it, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Welcome! Table for two?" She asked, looking between (Y/N) and Spencer.

"Can we actually just order something for takeout?" Spencer asked, looking at the menu above her head.

"Of course! What can I get for the handsome couple?" She smiled, her brown eyes crinkling on the side.

Spencer blinked. "Oh, uh, w-we, uh, we're not—," Spencer stammered, his eyes widening as his cheeks flushed. "Um, can we get a, uh, a large pepperoni pizza?" He shifted gears, remembering her once mentioning to Garcia that pepperoni was her favorite pizza topping.

"Did you want a two liter bottle of cola? It would only be an extra $1.25," the lady chuckled, entering everything into the register.

"S-sure," he responded, pulling out his wallet.

"Alrighty! That will be $9.25," Spencer handed over a $20 and the lady opened the register drawer and handed him his change. "Please, feel free to have a seat while the two of you wait." She gestured over at the tables, which were all empty save for one, which was occupied by a single woman with a large slice of pizza on her table doing a crossword puzzle, before walking back through the door behind her.

"After you," he turned to (Y/N), following her to a table by the window. He pulled the chair out for her, earning another one of her beautiful giggles that made his legs go wobbly.

"Always such a gentleman," she smiled up at him as he made his way to the other side of the table and sat down. They waited for around 10 minutes and chatted about random topics, flowing from one to the next. The same lady from before approached the table with a white pizza box and plastic bag with the large bottle of soda and little packets of crushed red peppers and parmesan.

"Here you go, one large pepperoni pizza!" She placed the box and the bag on the table and wished them a good evening before heading back through the same door behind the counter.

The pair headed out of the shop and crossed the street, entering the door to Spencer's apartment building. Spencer carried the pizza box and soda while trailing behind (Y/N), struggling to keep his gaze off of her behind as he followed her up the stairs. As they approached his door, he fumbled trying to get his keys out of his pocket and ended up dropping them on the ground.

(Y/N) immediately reacted, bending down to grab the keys as soon as they hit the ground with a good natured laugh. "Need some help, Spencer?" She teased while grinning up at him.

"Yes, please," he laughed in return, shooting her a sheepish grin of his own. She unlocked the door to his apartment and opened the door, allowing him to slip in first and place the pizza and soda down on his small table. She followed and closed the door behind her.

"So I know I had agreed to come over to watch Star Trek, but what would you say to watching a little Doctor who?" She turned to him, a hopeful glint in her eyes. "It's been a while since I've sat down and watched that and I kind of miss it."

"We can watch anything you'd like!" Spencer responded while heading to the kitchen to grab a couple of plates and glasses. He brought them back out and offered one of each to (Y/N). They each helped themselves to a slice of pizza and poured their drinks before heading over to his couch. He grabbed the remote and put on Doctor Who.

They ate their pizza and watched Doctor Who on his couch, each of them getting up for another slice at least once. Spencer stole the occasional glance at her as they ate and watched, and once they both finished he took their plates to the sink and washed them off before quickly returning. As he sat back down, (Y/N) scooted closer to him slowly before gently leaning up against him and softly asking, "i-is this okay?"

Spencer's breath hitched in his throat as he managed to croak out a quiet, "y-yeah, it's okay." He lifted his arm and tentatively placed it around her shoulders while she moved in closer, leaning into his chest and resting her head against it like she had on the plane as they read together. This time he was sure she had to hear the way his heart was racing, but fortunately she said nothing. They continued to watch in silence as the tension between the two of them grew nearly palpable.

Eventually, once Spencer found himself wondering if she had yet again fallen asleep, (Y/N) broke the silence with a question. "So did you hear the team talking about us earlier today?"

"No, uh, wh-what were they, um, talking about?" He lied, doing his best to maintain his composure.

"You are a very bad liar, Spencer," she chuckled, making his cheeks flush bright red as she sat up.

"Sorry," he muttered, closing his eyes before looking up at her. "Y-yeah, I overheard them. I'm sorry about them, I can try to talk to them about it and ask them to stop—"

"No, it's not that! It was actually fairly funny," she chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "But to be honest I'm kind of offended that they thought it would take me that long to seduce you." She joked, nudging Spencer in the ribs. "I mean, Emily said 'no more or less than 24 hours' but I'm fairly certain that if I really tried, and I mean really put my heart into it, I could get you into bed with me tonight." She laughed again but there was a hint of nervousness in it this time, shooting a look at him from where she sat as a faint pink blush began to spread over her cheeks. Apparently she hadn't heard Hotch's bet, but Spencer wasn't focusing on that. He was too busy focusing on the fact that he was sitting here listening to her speculate how long it would take for her to seduce him as if she hadn't been plaguing his dreams and fantasies since they met.

"Good point," he breathed to himself, hoping it was quiet enough that she wouldn't be able to hear over the TV. Unfortunately for him, he thought wrong. He yelped in surprise as she lunged over his lap, grabbed the remote, and hit the mute button, making the TV go silent.

"Oh, really?" She shot him a smile that was an equal mix of surprised and some other emotion Spencer hadn't seen on her face before. "So tell me, Spencer, what might I need to do to convince you to sleep with me?" Her voice was sultry and soft as she bit her lip and looked up at him, her face closer to his than it had been before.

"I-I, uh," Spencer cleared his throat and swallowed, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He had two options: try to lie his way out of this or just tell her how badly he'd like nothing more than to lay her down and take her right there on the couch. His palms grew slick again but he took a deep breath. He had already been called out for his poor lying skills once this evening, so there was no point in attempting the first option. Instead he simply opted to tell her the truth.

"Y-you wouldn't have to do anything more than just ask and I'd say yes." His voice was barely above a whisper and he finally looked up to meet her eyes before he added, "in a heartbeat."

Before he could fully register what was happening she had leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly. His eyes slowly closed as he kissed her back, shifting to turn so he was facing towards her with more of his body. His hands slid to her waist, wrapping around her and pulling her into him.

When they pulled away from each other he reached his hand up to cup her cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. He opened his eyes to find her already looking at him before she softly said, "Spencer, would you like to—"

"Yes," he exhaled with a fervent nod, grabbing her face with his other hand and crashing his lips back against hers, her lips parting to allow his tongue into her mouth. She threw her arms around his neck and laid back, pulling Spencer down with her. They shifted their legs until Spencer's hips rested between her thighs, his cock stiffening rapidly in his pants.

Her hands tangled into his hair and he began gently grinding his hips against her. They both moaned into each other's mouths at the sensation and Spencer's movements became more insistent and needy. When they finally broke apart to catch their breath, her cheeks were flushed and her pupils were dilated. Spencer brushed some of her hair out of her face before he pressed his lips to her cheek, then began trailing kisses from her cheek to her chin, then to her neck. She moved her hands to the collar of her shirt and began undoing the buttons while Spencer rose up to remove his own layers.

Once he had removed his shirt he looked back down at her and the sight awaiting him stole the breath right from his lungs. She had removed her shirt and her bra in the time it took him to get his jacket, vest, and shirt off and her entire torso was on display to him. He brought a hand up to one of her breasts and cupped it in his hand, brushing his thumb over the nipple. He leaned back over her and began kissing her neck again, teasing and tormenting her nipple before moving his mouth to take over, his fingers going to the other one to tease while he suckled and ran his tongue over the first one.

Everything else faded into the background when he heard her moan at sensations, including the throbbing and aching need in his pants. All that he could focus on was drawing more of those sounds form her mouth. He let his teeth graze against her nipple and she gasped, tangling her fingers back into his hair. He let his teeth press gently onto the hardened nub again and the moan she released in response was beautiful enough for him to think that maybe he had died and gone to heaven.

He eventually moved his hand from her other nipple, switching it out for his mouth and giving the first one a break. He let his hand trail down her abdomen, stopping as he reached the waistline of her skirt. He looked up at her from her chest as he hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to gently tug. She lifted her hips and used her hands to push her skirt and panties down before Spencer slowly pushed her thighs back open.

His fingers slid up her inner thigh until he reached her dripping center. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt just how ready she was for him. She whimpered beneath him and he felt his cock twitch at the sound as he moaned against her nipple. He gently ran a fingertip from her entrance to her clit, circling around it slowly before running his finger back down the other way. He repeated the action a few times. As he continued he started slipping the tip of his finger into the entrance of her pussy before swiping up to the clit, and with each repetition his finger slipped deeper and deeper into her.

His head became hazy with lust as he kept going until his finger was fully embedded into her. When he slipped it out this time instead of swiping it up to her clit he instead added a second finger, slowly pushing them both into her and pulling them back out. She arched her back up into his mouth, still tormenting her nipple. He switched back to the neglected one, feeling her chest heave against his mouth. Her fingers were back in his hair and tugging gently, and his cock twitched again at the feeling. He moaned loudly against her chest, and she pulled his hair again in response. He tugged at her nipple with his teeth lightly and she gasped, clenching around his fingers.

He sped up his pace, chuckling against her as the way she stifled a scream. "S-Spencer I'm gonna—oh fuck yes I'm coming!" She cried. Spencer pulled back to see her eyes flutter back into her head and her face twist in pleasure. Her face, neck, and chest were flushed scarlet and he felt as her pussy pulsed around his fingers. The sounds that fell from her lips were more beautiful than anything he'd ever heard. He slowed his fingers down, gently coaxing her through her orgasm.

(Y/N) tugged his hair, pulling him up to crash her lips against his. She then moved those hands to his belt, deftly undoing his belt buckle and fly. Spencer removed his belt and then pushed his pants and briefs to his ankles before kicking them off. (Y/N) reached a hand out and ran her fingers over his cock, her thumb swiping across the tip as it throbbed.

He was aching and leaking into her hand, his hips bucking into her touch while she stroked once, twice, a third time, before guiding the tip between her thighs and pressing him against her entrance. He pushed in immediately, moaning at the heat that enveloped him, and stilled once he was fully sheathed inside of her. He panted heavily as he remained still inside of her, listening to the way she whimpered beneath him.

"S-so good," he whispered, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to keep himself from finishing immediately.

"Yeah? It feels good?" She asked breathlessly.

"Yes!" He moaned. "You feel s-so good." His entire body tensed and his arms trembled under his weight when he felt her begin to writhe beneath him, trying to get some sort of friction between her legs. He took deep breaths before he pulled his hips back and pushed them back forward, earning enthusiastic moans from (Y/N)'s lips as her back arched up off of the bed, her chest pressing into his. He dragged himself back out, then back in, and kept this up until their hips had fallen into rhythm together. Every sound that fell from her lips was more beautiful than the last as Spencer rammed into her and the slap of skin on skin was mixed in with their moans.

"Sp-Spencer—" a moan cut her off, followed by his lips finding hers and swallowing the moan. His hips sped up and he felt her nails dig into his shoulders.

"I—oh my god—(Y/N), I think I'm about to come!" He cried out. He tipped his head back and a desperate whine ripped it's way from his throat as he felt himself growing closer and closer with each disjointed thrust into her and each moan from her lips. "Wh-where do you want—oh god—where should I—"

"Give it to me, please!" She mewled underneath him. "Please, please fill me up Spencer, please I need—" he finished before she could even finish her pleas, moaning loudly as he tensed and spilled every drop into her. He could feel her clench down onto him, could hear her cry out in pleasure and felt her fingernails digging into his shoulders hard enough that he suspected she may have drawn blood, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that through the pleasure coursing through every cell in his body.

By the time he came back down, he could barely hold himself up on his arms with how hard they were trembling. He opened his eyes and was blown away by the sight beneath him. Her hair was tousled and her face and chest were flushed, the latter heaving with her own gasps for air. Spencer leaned in to give her lips a soft kiss before pulling himself out of her. When he looked down in between their legs and saw his seed dripping out of her, his head spun with lust. He was snapped out of it by the sound of a cell phone ringing, and he reached for the source of the sound to determine which of them needed to answer.

When he located the phone beneath his own pants he answered figuring it to be his own phone ringing. "Hello?" He was still breathlessly panting as he looked at (Y/N), her eyes dancing with humor at his tone.

"Reid, is that you?" Garcia's voice came through the phone.

"Yeah, who else would it be?" He asked, gaining back a bit of control over his breathing.

"Well, given that I dialed (Y/N)'s number, perhaps her?" She laughed a little bit. "What are you doing answering (Y/N)'s phone sounding like you just finished a marathon?" She asked, her voice growing more and more excited with each word.

"I—uh, um—(Y-Y/N)'s phone?" He stammered, sitting up quickly at the words as he turned his gaze to (Y/N), who was cleaning herself up next to him with some tissues she had grabbed from his side table. Her eyes widened as she heard those two words come from his mouth and her hand shot to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I. uh, I guess I must have grabbed hers by mistake after we ate lunch together at her desk."

"Spencer Reid you really are the world's worst liar!" Garcia laughed from the other end as Spencer felt his entire face burn with embarrassment at being called out on his poor lying skills twice in one evening.

"I-it's for you," he mumbled while he handed her the phone. After he had cleaned himself up, he put his pants and shirt back on while he let (Y/N) focus on her conversation with Garcia, which she managed to continue while getting dressed. Once she had hung up the phone she pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed slowly while laughing.

"Well, now that Penelope knows so will everyone on the team," she let out a sigh but then smiled at Spencer so sweetly he couldn't help but scoot closer and wrap his arms around her again. They sat like that for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's presence in front of the still muted television.

"Hey, Spencer?" She spoke up eventually.

"Yeah?" He muttered back sleepily while he absent-mindedly played with her hair.

"I'm going to go grab another slice of pizza, want me to bring you one, too?"

[bueckers]

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄 ━━━ 𝐏𝐁

a/n | heavily inspired by that clip of caitlin & gabbie LOL. kind of a blurb

summary: paige gets caught looking at you a certain way on camera while you’re practically fuming during a game.

warning(s): just sexual tension & out of pocket comments, suggestive

pairing: paige bueckers x teammate!reader

The game against NC State was remarkably close, an unexpected challenge for only the second game of the season. As the third quarter dwindled to its final minutes, a sense of frustration began to set in. You found yourself doing everything in your power to gain composure.

The same girl had been targeting you all night, her aggressive play becoming increasingly blatant as the game progressed. Your patience was wearing thin, and when she charged at you once again, a surge of anger propelled you forward, ready to confront her. However, before you could react, Paige, Aubrey, and Ines intervened, stepping in to hold you back before you did something you’d regret.

Geno had benched you, which only added more fuel to the fire. When the other team called a timeout, the rest of the team was sent to the benches, but Paige was quick to run over to you. As soon as the whistle blew, you got out of my seat and jogged over to the referee, determined to explain that he had made the wrong call. He had been the entire game. Your frustration, however, got the better of you, and your words came out heated. The referee was clearly unimpressed with your complaints and wasn’t budging.

Paige stepped in front of you, concluding your one-sided heated conversation with the referee. She grabbed your arm with one hand and placed the other on your lower back to guide you away. “C’mere,” she mumbled, steering you back to the bench. You sat down, a little calmer than before but still huffing and puffing that you hadn’t gotten to say everything you wanted to.

Paige sat next to you, her entire body turned in your direction as she nearly fell off the seat. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and she knew exactly what to do to get you to calm down. “Talk to me,” she threw out huskily, knowing you had to actually get what you had to say out before resting. You were already on it.

“That girl has been all over me all night,” you began, words tumbling out in a rush. “Do you know how many fouls I’ve been cheated out of? It’s like she’s got it out for me. And the refs are fucking blind to it—this is bullshit..”

As you rambled on, Paige couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. She was perplexed at how you could look so good even while angry. Her eyes darted between yours and your lips the entire time, her lips slightly parted. Though you were loud, she barely heard a word, her ears blocking out all of the trash talk you let flow. Paige was captivated, caught between her desire to comfort you with reassuring words and letting you take her in the locker room after the game, which seemed to intensify with every fiery word you spoke.

Her head rested in one of her hands, and just as you finished speaking you turned to her, catching her lingering gaze on your lips. This out of all things made you crack a smile. “Paige,” you snapped her out of her short daze, her eyes averting back to yours.

“Yeah?” she mumbled, sitting up straighter now as she reached her hands behind her head to adjust her ponytail.

Your eyes followed her without your head moving for a moment, your smile only growing bigger as you realized why she was staring at you that way. “What?” she questioned, her smile being heard through it, faking her oblivion as she looked at you.

“You’re so fucking horny, bro.” you shook your head, smiling bright at her as she threw her head back, laughing, but she didn’t disagree. What you didn’t know, was that your interaction was caught on camera being televised—and of course screen recorded.

user1. lip readers get on this 😭

user2. Paige is down bad CONFIRMED

user3. The way she’s looking at her omg I physically can’t

user4. PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS!?!?

user5. are they dating?

user6. No

user7. I hope so

user8. nooo way this is real LMFAOOO

user9. her eyes shifting between her lips and eyes ohhh she’s so down bad

user10. FRIENDS DON’T LOOK AT FRIENDS THAT WAY!?!?

user11. wouldn’t be surprised if they’re fucking

user12. these comments are crazy as hell 😭

[kitten4sannie]

for love of the game

pairing: pitcher! wooyoung x batter! reader (fem) x teammate! yunho

genres: college baseball au, enemies to fuckbuddies, best friends to fuckbuddies, smut

summary: jung wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, is beyond determined to show you that he is in fact, on top. Yunho, your close friend and reliable teammate, will do everything in his power to watch it all go down.

w.c: 5k (2k words of plot bc i can ✨ the rest is filth tho i promise <3)

warnings: tobacco/vape usage, nasty mean dom! wooyo, perverted subby puppyboy! yuyu, bratty bitch in the streets, subby slut in the sheets! reader, yuyu has a horsecock, implied brat taming, brief choking, mxm, one single slap and spank, cuckholding, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, humiliation kink, dirty talk, exhibitionism/voyeurism, brief breath play, oral (giving/receiving), masturbation, yuyu sucks cock, thigh fucking, cum eating, deep-throating, spit kink, hair tugging, breeding kink (would it be a kitten4sannie fic without it? idt so 💅🏼), unprotected sex, creampies, dumbification

a/n: hey batter, batter~~ ughhh i’ve been itching to write this ever since they went to their first dodger game 🥺 i had an unusual amount of fun writing this as you’ll be able to tell eeheheheh (≧∀≦) anygaysss i hope you enjoy this hater x hater x nasty bsf fantasy ✨

song recs: siren by ateez - new girl by finneas - knock me out by miyavi - heaven and back by chase atlantic

“You ready for today’s game, Y/N?” Yunho, your teammate and closest personal friend outside of baseball, asked you inquisitively, one of his large hands rubbing into the tense muscle of your shoulder, using the other to send a tactical text message to someone. 

When you weren’t training, working out, or competing in your college team’s playoff games, you were hanging out in Yunho’s frat house, watching him get his ass handed to him in League. You both had a simple, easy going relationship, one that consisted of chill kickbacks and drunken shenanigans, with the occasional exchange of longing glances, lingering touches, and perhaps an adrenaline induced fuck or two, or three before and after one of your games — but who were you to decipher what your relationship status was? You had your future career to focus on. 

“Am I ready? Yun, I came out the pussy ready for this fucking game,” you replied vulgarly, bringing your water bottle up to your lips to take a few sips, smiling crookedly up at your tall friend over the shoulder he was keenly massaging. 

“That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Yunho chimed proudly, shoving his phone into his back pocket so that he could use both of his hands on your shoulders, doing his best to loosen up your muscles with his long, slender fingers.

“I’m not your baby, but maybe I would be if you stopped solo-queuing as Braum every time you hop on League.” You couldn’t help but let out a few groans from the pressure he was using on you, hoping that his massage would aid you in the powerful swings you would have to make during the next seven innings. “I’m tired of watching you get ass fucked every round.” 

“You wanna go for a few rounds next time then? I wouldn’t mind watching you get wrecked,” Yunho mumbled into your ear, glancing across the dugout at the other team, before he let go of you and sat down next to his rowdy teammates, joining in on the competition to see whose thighs could take up the most space on the crowded bench. 

“Yeah, I bet, you degenerate. Oh, you know what else you can watch?” you retorted, pretending to reach into one of your pockets and pulling out nothing, simply holding your middle finger up to Yunho. Your best friend quickly mirrored your unique display of affection, leading the both of you to giggle and smile at each other for a little too long, before you decided to sit down as well and conserve your energy. 

During the typical pre-game announcements, you found yourself not being able to get comfortable like you usually could. It was off-putting, to say the least. There was nothing unusual going on. The sky was nice and clear, the wind blew a cool breeze across the exposed skin of your neck, right in between your pulled-up hair and the collar of your softball uniform. Your teammates were all stretching their limbs, shooting the shit, eagerly chewing nicotine gum, or spitting out tobacco juice into empty water bottles. All was right in the world, yet you couldn’t seem to stop bouncing your thigh, your cleats repeatedly digging deeper marks into the dirt below. That was when you felt the intensity of someone’s eyes boring into you. 

“Yo, baby, you got some chew on you?” someone with an irritatingly smug, yet distinctly familiar voice asked you from the other side of the snug dugout.

You immediately stood up from your seat, turning your head in the direction of the voice, just in time for you to come face to face with the Devil himself. 

Jung Wooyoung, a pitcher with a fearsome curveball, and your self-proclaimed enemy since the beginning of the playoffs, was casually leaning down against the small metal fence that separated your teams, looking up at you through the yellow lenses of his sunglasses. 

“Do I look like the type to put that nasty shit in my mouth?” you immediately snapped, taking a few steps in his direction, not realizing how hard you were squeezing your plastic water bottle until it began to audibly crunch inside your tight grasp. “Huh?” 

Wooyoung licked at the mole on his chapped bottom lip, his canines becoming visible when he smiled cockily at you. He missed his favorite plaything. You were so easy to rile up. It made his already tight pinstripe pants even tighter. “Mm, but you’ve put nastier things in your mouth, haven’t you, baby?”

Scoffing, you placed your hands on your soft hips, shaking your head, pretending his perverse words didn’t make your cheeks feel like they were already sunburnt, wanting to put up more of a front, now that your entire team was possibly listening in. “You would know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, Wooyoung? The handjobs you give your team aren’t doing enough for you these days, huh?” 

Wooyoung did his best to ignore the snickers and whispers of your team, taking his cap off to run his fingers through his silky raven hair, biting the corner of his lip all the while. “People talk in the locker rooms, you know. They say you really know your way around a cock. Probably from all that practice you get with your teammates, yeah?” He looked over to Yunho, who sheepishly smiled at him. “You can vouch for me, can’t you, Yun?” The batter remained quiet out of fear of your wrath.

Wooyoung was about to say more, when his vision was suddenly blurred by something cold. You had offered him mercy, dumping the rest of your water on the pitcher’s head, rather than shoving the entire bottle up his ass like you desperately wanted to. Instead of blowing up on you and embarrassing himself like you had hoped he would, Wooyoung simply flipped his hair back and put his cap back on, resulting in a few squeals from some nearby fangirls that were sitting in the stands. “If getting me hard was the goal, you succeeded, Y/N.” 

You grimaced. “You’re fucking disgusting, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung reached over the fence to push a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “But, you love it, don’t you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.” 

“You should be obsessed with me. Maybe if you paid attention, you could figure out how to pitch a ball that I won’t knock out of the goddamn stadium.” 

You irked Wooyoung to no end, your equally quick-witted jabs getting underneath the pitcher’s tan skin. However, he wouldn’t let you have the satisfaction of seeing that, unless hell itself froze over. “And if you paid attention, maybe your team would actually make it past the playoffs.” 

That was when a vein visibly began to bulge out of your temple, your jaw tensing. Wooyoung had struck a nerve. You knew it, he knew it, and your team definitely knew it. You’d give anything to make it to the championship game, but it was always just barely out of reach. The fact that Wooyoung would stoop so incredibly low had your blood boiling. You wanted nothing more than to grab the smug pitcher by his collar and spit directly in his face, but you were afraid that he would enjoy that more than you would have. So, instead you simply accepted defeat in that moment and sat back down on the bench, staring ahead at the expansive baseball field.  

You were too caught up in your own furious thoughts to notice that Yunho had left the spot he had taken up on the bench, instead leaning on the same fence Wooyoung had been chilling on just moments ago. 

“Your girl’s feisty, Yun. I fucking love it. She seems like she bites. Does she bite?” Wooyoung prodded the taller man, just as he pulled a vape out of his pocket and took a long hit, causally blowing out the smoke into Yunho’s face. 

Yunho waved the vapor away, shaking his head slightly. “She’s not mine, but yeah, she bites. She…does a lot of things.” 

Wooyoung hummed in response, smiling like he knew something no one else did, his eyes shifting from the crowd, to his teammates who smiled back at him, then back up at Yunho. “She’s not yours, but she lets you hit, doesn’t she?” 

“She does…She’s just very...rough.” Yunho bit his lip, thinking about how ferociously you would ride his cock in the empty locker rooms after the games you would ultimately lose, remembering all the love bites and scratches you littered his broad body in, knowing you wouldn’t let him go until you left his cock raw and so sensitive he was ready to cry. He was more of a softie himself, a good boy, if you will, not exactly cut out for the animalistic sex you required after such a brutal loss. Wooyoung, however, seemed more fit for that. In fact, Yunho felt his throat go dry just imagining the two of you going at it in such a way, especially in front of him. That was allowed, right? 

“Yunho.” Wooyoung took another long puff from his vape, using his free hand to take his glasses off and placing them over the brim of his baseball cap.

“Yeah?” 

Wooyoung reached up to place his hand on Yunho’s tense shoulder, massaging his digits into it to loosen up the muscle. “I got a proposition for you. If your team wins today, you get to fuck a happy, calm Y/N. She’ll probably even blow you without expecting anything back. Who knows, she might even swallow.” 

Yunho unconsciously licked his lips, glancing back over the shoulder Wooyoung was massaging into to admire your pretty face, even if it was contorted with rage-filled determination. He slowly looked back down at the pitcher. “And, if your team wins?” 

Wooyoung grinned deviously, licking at one of his sharp canines. “I get to put that pretty slut in her place.” 

-

The first locker in your sight was the main recipient of your bubbling anger, the side of your bat making contact with the metal, incidentally leaving an indent. “Motherfucker!” you shouted to no one inside the empty women’s locker room, tossing the bat down the long hallway, not bothering to watch it roll along the ground until it was stopped by someone’s dusty cleat. 

You threw your baseball cap into your crowded locker along with your balled up, button-up shirt once you pulled it off of your torso. You then pressed your hands into the cool metal, staring at your angry, sweaty reflection in the locker door mirror, huffing and puffing. “How could you strike out to a bitch like him? Do better,” you told yourself, your hands forming fists. 

Wooyoung cleared his throat, making his presence known, taking slow steps down the hallway with his hands in his pockets, happily chewing on a piece of gum. “I knew you were a sore loser, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” 

“Are you lost, Wooyoung? This is the women’s locker room, and last time I checked you don’t have a pussy,” you spat in his direction, reaching down to unbutton your pants. 

“You wanna check for me, baby? I might not be hung like Yunho, but I’ll still be able to pump you full of cum. A slutty little cleat chaser like you would love that, huh?” Wooyoung mused vulgarly, leaning against the lockers, lowering his tinted glasses to leer at your half-naked body. 

You didn’t look at Wooyoung for too long, knowing you might kill him, or fuck him raw, if you did, now that jealousy-fueled rage was flowing through your veins. 

A shower would probably help cool you down. Help you think straight. On the other hand, a nice, thick cock drilling into you wouldn’t solve all your problems, but it sure would help, even if it was your sworn enemy who was servicing you. Instead of replying, you simply shimmied out of your tight, dust-covered pants and stepped out of them, bringing a foot up onto the bench to stretch out your sore, bruise-ridden legs, deeply annoyed that you slid to so many bases just to lose anyway.

Wooyoung’s throat ran dry, his gaze suddenly fixated on the g-string that formed to the curves of your hips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down upon the sight of the thin string tightly cupping your cunt as you bent down to massage your fingers into your thighs and calves. “Fuck, is that a thong? You usually don’t wear anything…” 

“What does it look like, dumbass?” you snapped, before turning on your heels in the opposite direction, looking back at him over your shoulder. Chuckling softly at the tent that formed inside his pants, you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it drop to the floor, prior to heading into the open shower room, very aware of the fact that Wooyoung was following close behind you like a eager, drooling puppy, smirking at the sounds of shuffling and grunting, the pitcher’s clothes hitting the tile floor on the way. Wooyoung talked a big game, but at the end of the day, he was just a man, and you took pride in knowing you had that power over him, even if you didn’t have it on the field. 

“Hey, does having something rubbing against your pussy help you play better, Y/N? Or do you just like getting wet in front of all those men like the whore you are?” Wooyoung asked near your ear, watching you turn the shower handle to the right until a steady stream of warm water began to pour onto the both of you, waiting for you to turn around so that he could slip his twitching fingers under the thong straps that clung to your hips and pulled them up just to watch your pussy lips slip out past the thin material, making the pitcher groan. 

“Did you come here just to slut shame me, Wooyoung?” You pressed your back into the cold tile wall behind you, goosebumps forming on your bare, heated skin, looking up at him past your wispy lashes, an amalgamation of intense hatred and lust sitting just beneath the surface of your piercing gaze. “Or did you come here to fuck me?” 

Wooyoung groaned at your bold words, pressing one of his hands onto the wall near your head, the other cupping your slick cunt, his lips just barely ghosting yours. “I didn’t just come here to fuck you, princess. I came here to ruin you.”

“Then, ruin me,” you reiterated, grabbing Wooyoung by a tuft of his wet hair, your teeth and tongues clashing together in an instant. 

Once Wooyoung was satisfied with the amount of spit he had swallowed, he pulled back, simply placing one hand on the top of your head and forcefully pushing you down until you got the hint. 

You were mad at yourself for being unable to resist getting on your knees for a cocky prick like Wooyoung, so you simply glared up at him, trying to pretend you didn’t notice his stiff, thick cock standing at attention in front of your face. “When I said ruin me, I meant my cunt. You think I’m just gonna suck you off because you pushed my head down? It’s bold of you to assume I won’t bite.” 

“Don’t be a brat, Y/N. I won today, so I deserve special treatment, don’t I?” Wooyoung argued, squinting his eyes at you once you began grimacing up at his erection, his fingers wrapping around your hair to create a makeshift ponytail. “Maybe if you didn’t strike out so many times, I would be the one on my knees, devouring that pretty cunt of yours.” 

“Shut the fuck up…” you murmured, squeezing your thighs together, not understanding why someone like Wooyoung had so much power over you. 

“That’s not very nice of you to say, princess.” Wooyoung reached down with his free hand to hold the base of his cock, tapping the leaking tip against your lips, smearing his pre-cum over them in the process. “How about we put that dirty mouth of yours to better use, yeah?”

Afraid he was late to the show after being forced to do an interview with the local college, Yunho quickly made his way into the women’s locker room, almost slipping on the bat you left on the floor as he followed the sounds of breathy groans, gurgled moans, and running water that were echoing from the showers. He almost fell to his knees at the sight of his best friend taking cock down her throat. You were a complete mess, streaks of mascara running down your flushed cheeks, strands of milky saliva dribbling down past your swollen lips, along your bulging throat, and onto your tits, your nose routinely making contact with Wooyoung’s pelvis. Yunho didn’t even know you could deep-throat cock with so much ease. 

Leaning against the opposite side of the shower room, Yunho desperately began to palm at his stiff, leaking length through the baggy gray sweatpants that hung loosely from his hips, his cheeks and ears growing red once he caught your teary gaze. 

You reached in between your trembling thighs, trying to relieve the deep ache inside your dripping cunt by filling it with two of your fingers, letting out a choked moan when Wooyoung roughly smacked the side of your cheek. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself? You’re my cocksleeve right now. You don’t get to play with your cunt, dumb whore,” Wooyoung grunted, letting go of your hair to pinch your nose when you wouldn’t stop finger-fucking yourself, keeping his cock lodged deep inside your throat, cutting off your only source to oxygen. 

“M-mmnfff…!” you whimpered, your brain starting to feel delightfully fuzzy around the edges, getting an instant head high from not being able to breathe. You waited until the very last second to stop playing with yourself, suddenly grabbing onto Wooyoung’s hips and squeezing them tightly, begging him for mercy with your watery eyes. 

Wooyoung immediately pulled his cock out of your mouth and slapped it down onto your face as a further attempt to humiliate you in front of your friend. “What a dirty slut…” He began to jerk himself off, rubbing his reddened cockhead against your parted lips. “I want you to listen to me. Once I cum inside your mouth, you’re not going to swallow, got it?” 

Wiping the excess saliva from your face, you nodded your head obediently, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes, knowing Yunho was just a few feet away from you, but too distracted by the thick, leaking cock right in front of your face. “Cum, please…”

Yunho didn’t realize how much he was getting off on being ignored by the two of you until he finally freed his cock from his stained sweatpants and jerked himself off directly, thick globs of pre-cum pouring down the side of his heavy length, breathy, whiny moans escaping from his drooling mouth, his glasses starting to fog up. 

“Brainless for me already, hm? What a good girl. Now, show me your tongue,” Wooyoung whispered, taking advantage of the situation and sending a few strings of spit down onto it as soon as you held out your tongue. When he watched you swallow it immediately, your thighs squeezing together right after, Wooyoung tossed his head back and let out a long guttural groan, pressing his cockhead against your tongue just in time for spurts of hot cum to shoot out of it. 

Ready to cum untouched from being used solely for Wooyoung’s pleasure, you carefully closed your mouth, not letting any of his hot load spill out, but not swallowing it down either, as much as you wanted to.

Wooyoung reached down to run his fingers through your wet hair, admiring the mess of pre-cum and spit you had on your face, smiling at you with his canines on display. “Spit out my cum onto your fingers and fuck it into that whore-hole of yours. You wanted to play with yourself, didn’t you? Now’s your chance, princess.” 

Shocked by Wooyoung’s perverted request, you simply looked up at him with wide eyes, looking like a hamster with the way your cheeks were currently puffed out and filled with his cum. 

“Go on, baby. Don’t be shy. Show Yunho why you have a reputation of being such a shameless cumslut with the guys on my team,” Wooyoung encouraged breathily, gently patting one of your filled cheeks, a few dribbles of milkiness leaking out past your lips.

Yunho’s eyes left the soaking mess in between your thighs for a second to meet your embarrassed gaze, coming to terms with this new information. Not only did you fuck him after your losses, but you took the time to fuck the winning team, even after Yunho had filled your womb with countless loads. You really were a slut. Yunho became so hard, he grew a bit dizzy. 

“F-fine, but don’t stare…” you murmured sheepishly, as if you hadn’t been ran through by both of their teams before. The men in question watched with bated breath as you let the milky load drip onto your fingers, letting out little gasps when they quickly disappeared all the way inside you, your cunt making obscene squelching sounds each time you pushed them in and out.

“You’re so filthy…I think I’m in love,” Wooyoung sighed dreamily, reaching down to clutch your jaw with his slender fingers. He smiled keenly at your contorted expression, enjoying the sound of your whiny moans. “What’s wrong, princess? Are you going to cum just from being a filthy whore? Does it feel that good knowing you're breeding yourself with my load? Mm, and it feels even better knowing that Yunho is watching you be my pretty little cum dump, huh?” 

“S-so good, I might…ffffuck…” Once your heated gaze returned to your best friend, Yunho began to seize up at the same time as you, painting his plain black t-shirt with ropes of cum just as your milky release poured onto the tile floor below. 

Wooyoung simply chuckled in amusement, before turning his head to face his longtime friend just in time to see him wiping thick streaks of cum off of his long, softened length. “Did you just bust a nut from watching Y/N try to impregnate herself?” 

“Y-yes.” Blushing, Yunho adjusted his glasses out of habit, now that he wasn’t wearing his contacts, pulling at the sleeve of his hoodie now that his two favorite people were looking at him like they wanted to devour him. 

“You’re just as dirty as she is.” Wooyoung smiled idly, positioning himself behind you so that your back pressed into his chest, slowly spreading you wide open for all three of you to see just how pink your soaked slit was. “Hey, Yun. You hungry?” 

“Very,” your teammate replied quickly, licking at his lips, already finding himself on his knees before you, ready to start panting in true golden retriever fashion. 

“You don’t mind if Yun eats out your pretty, cum-stuffed cunt, do you, baby?” Wooyoung asked you, leaning over to nip at your jaw, pinching your swollen clit just to hear the cute sound you made for him. 

Just as you gave them the go-ahead, your teammate buried his face in between your thighs, appreciating how Wooyoung spread you open further with his thumbs, eagerly lapping at the milky liquid that slowly began to drip out of you. 

“What a good puppy,” Wooyoung praised, growing hard and harder the longer he watched Yunho desperately slurp up the tangy mixture into his drooling mouth, slipping his cock in between your soft, sweaty thighs, appreciating the warmth they provided. “Do you like the way my cum tastes, Yun?” 

“Tasches scho good, Woo,” Yunho replied with his mouth full, dragging his dripping tongue up and over your puffy cunt over and over, idly kneading his fingers into the sides of your thighs. 

Groaning, Wooyoung began to fuck the tight space in between your thighs, the underside of his cock rubbing deliciously against your pussy, making you moan even louder than you were before. “You wanna taste it from the source, Yun? Huh? You want a taste of my cock?” 

Yunho nodded quickly, having to push down his own stiff length from the way it was poking into his abdomen. Drooling, he watched how Wooyoung pulled you just a little farther back against his body, until Yunho had access to his friend’s leaking cock, immediately wrapping his lips around the reddened tip and noisily slurping on it. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Wooyoung moaned out, clutching one of your hips tightly, snaking the other one around your waist to begin flicking and rubbing your clit, looking down over your shoulder to watch his friend fervently suck and lick at his cock each time he thrusted himself between your closed, trembling thighs, a combination of his pre-cum and your wetness dirtying Yunho’s foggy glasses. “I’m gonna fucking cum all over your face, Yun. Gonna make Y/N squirt all over it too.” 

“Give it to me, please…” he panted, dragging his tongue up from Wooyoung’s twitching tip, along your pulsing cunt, and up over your clit, licking fervently at it when Wooyoung lifted your hood up to expose it completely. Yunho was so desperate to chase his high, he almost didn’t register that he had begun to hump against your leg like a dog in heat, leaving streaks of sticky pre-cum on your skin. 

“Good puppy, fuck, you’re such a good boy, Yuyu,” you praised your teammate whinily, desperately rubbing your cunt all over his tongue until your knees felt like they were about to buckle, Wooyoung’s veiny cock running along your slit from below sending you over the edge. 

“Wet this puppy’s face with your squirt, baby. Now,” Wooyoung growled into your ear, biting on the side of it just as he roughly pinched your clit, thrusting forward in between your thighs one more time, only for his sensitive tip to be met with Yunho’s agile tongue, his eyes rolling back when his friend lapped over and into the slit. 

Right as your arousal began to squirt onto Yunho’s flushed face, Wooyoung’s cock twitched up into your cunt, his hot load shooting out onto your teammate’s tongue, a few spurts landing onto his glasses. 

When Yunho was about to cum from rubbing himself all over your leg, he suddenly didn’t have access to it, causing him to look up and whimper. Licking at the cum and squirt on his lips, his honey brown eyes widened at the both of you, his pupils blown wide. 

Wooyoung had lifted up your trembling thighs so that they were pressed into either side of you, your body folded up like a paper doll, his hardened cock already slipping in and out of your soaking cunt. Chuckling at your breathless moans and whines, he dragged his tongue up and over your jaw, humming at the taste of your salty skin. “You’ve been waiting to get pounded like this, yeah? Because no one uses this pretty body like I do…huh? You’re so spoiled now.” 

“It’s all your fault,” you gasped out in between moans, reaching your arm back to hold onto Wooyoung’s neck, turning your head so that your lips ghosted along the side of his panting mouth. “Please cum inside, Woo, please, I need it.” 

Wooyoung squeezed his fingers into the underside of your thighs, bucking his hips roughly up into you. “God, I love when I turn you into my little breeding bitch.” He turned his head so that he could bite at your bottom lip, groaning, “Get ready to retire, baby. I’m gonna knock you up.” 

Yunho thought he was going to lose his goddamn mind from witnessing the display of dominance and submission that was taking place directly above him. Wooyoung was completely controlling your body, ruthlessly fucking up into you, one hand tugging at your hair, the other wrapped around your neck, a small bulge routinely becoming visible within your lower abdomen with each thrust and every he made into your stretched cunt. It seemed like neither of you could even remember that Yunho was there, right below you, until he began to eagerly lick at the slick, milky space where your heated, sticky bodies routinely made contact. 

You both moaned at the pleasurable sensation, your pulsing lower halves beginning to grow extremely heavy. “Yuyuuu, that feels so good,” you whimpered, angling your head down to gaze lovingly at Yunho, reaching your hand down to ruffle his sweaty hair. 

Growling, Wooyoung grabbed you by the chin and shoved his tongue down your throat, forcibly bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your teary eyes never closed, and never left Yunho’s, even when you began to cum for Wooyoung, your release spilling out into your dear teammate’s open mouth and onto his lolled-out tongue. Just when Yunho thought he couldn’t get any harder, you began to cry out a cuter version of Wooyoung’s name once he really started to drill his pulsing cock into your sensitive cunt, the twinges of jealousy Yunho felt only contributing to his need to witness his friend unload himself into you. 

Wooyoung pressed his forehead against yours, his sharp eyes boring into yours. “You look at me when you take my load, baby. I don’t care if your little boyfriend is watching me fuck you stupid,” he demanded, smacking his palm roughly into the side of your ass, making you squeak out in pleasurable pain. 

“Yes, Youngie,” you breathed out, your eyebrows drawing closer once your bottom half began to grow heavier and heavier, not knowing if you were truly capable of cumming for the nth time. 

“What a good girl…Open your mouth for me…” Sighing softly, he caught his dripping saliva on your tongue with his own and slid it into your open mouth, the both of you letting out muffled moans as he spilled inside you once again. He broke the sloppy kiss to look down over your shoulder, admiring how his load began to slip out past his softening cock, dripped down past his balls, and landed onto Yunho’s fucked-out face. He smiled darkly at the dried spurts of cum Yunho left on his t-shirt and stained sweatpants. “Baby, look at the mess puppy made…” 

You licked at your lips, both you and Wooyoung just about devouring your teammate with your lustful gazes alone. “Oh, Yuyu. Look what you’ve done to yourself. Poor, sweet puppy just wants to feel good, doesn’t he?” 

Yunho bit his bottom lip, looking up at the both of you with half-closed, watery eyes, completely at your combined mercy. “Y-yeah. More, please.” 

You and Wooyoung exchanged lecherous glances, knowing neither of you would be able to stop, especially not when you had such a perfect new companion to play with. Despite all the odds, you and your rival had finally come to a truce, and, of course, came to the conclusion that you’d be tag teaming Yunho until you would have to get ready for softball practice the next morning.

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

for love of the game taglist: @choileo-0710 @luvr4hwa @dawn-iscozy @seulfanatics @anxiousskylar @nanime-roality @304files @yunhoswrldddd

general taglist: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cosmiczen @choerryge @arusio @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @purplechannie @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @chanst1ddies @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @bls-luv-me @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @eastleighsblog @singularity777 @san-realblkwife @kawennote09 @feuille-et-pain @slut4hwa @owjohny @hijeongguk @lilramennoodle @leo-seonghwa @staytinydegenerate @greenymar @8tinytings @baguette-atiny @lvnderhazes @knucklesdeepmingi

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[waldau-archived]

how they take care of you — seventeen | 2,531 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

i didn't know i liked writing ot13 this much!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out/tired/scared/ill/sad? y'know, the usual spectrum of negative human emotions?

seungcheol

gets so concerned when he hears a hitch in your voice when you greet him that he drops whatever he’s doing and rushes to you. doesn’t matter if he’s on a call or if he’s doing some important paperwork, he’s all yours now.

gives you a big, comforting hug that tries to shield you from everything but him. kisses your head to try and ground you.

doesn’t make you talk if you don’t want to, but he insists that you don’t keep it in for too long because it’s only going to hurt you in the end. lasts only for a while before asking if there's someone that needs some talking to for making you feel this sad.

tries to do anything in his power to see you smile, even if it's momentary. shows you a funny picture of his favourite child (mingyu) to cheer you up. asks if you feel okay enough to walk kkuma with him, because she needs some time with her other favourite person (you).

“you know i love you, right? that's never changing.”

jeonghan

is proud to be the person that becomes your comfort when something doesn’t go right, or when you’ve had a bad day.

immediately bottles up any jokes he’s about to make and wipes away your tears, stops only when you bat his hands away. even if he doesn’t want to let go of you, he respects your boundaries.

when you're feeling a bit better, he pulls you down into the sofa and cuddles with you, and is content whether you choose to tell him what’s on your mind, or if you want to be silent and fiddle with his shirt instead.

kisses your forehead and looks into your eyes when he promises you that it’s just one bad day, and that he’s always here for all the others. links pinkies with you because he knows how much it means to you, even if it may seem childish.

will resort to tickling you to make the last traces of your sadness vanish, and asks if there’s anything else he can do to make you smile.

joshua

comes to pick you up from work because he has a free day, and realizes something’s wrong the moment you greet him hello without even looking at his face for more than two seconds.

doesn’t make a big deal out of it, though. takes your stuff from you and greets you softly. opens the door for you and buckles your seat belt. asks you if it’s okay that he’s not taking you home first, because there’s some place else he wants to take you.

dismisses any concerns you have about not looking “good enough” to go out, because you look absolutely gorgeous at any time of the day, and he’d never lie about something like this to you. lets you choose whatever music you want as he weaves through the traffic on the streets, telling you about his day.

parks the car and gets out to hold your hand in his as he guides you over to the many stalls, asking you to pick whatever you want to eat. sits next to you on one of the benches overlooking the river, your legs swinging as you lean into his side and enjoy your meal. is glad he could take care of you like this because you needed it.

“trust me when i say whatever happened is not your fault, okay, sweetheart?”

junhui

is more confident in his actions than his words, because he can immediately notice the little changes in your behaviour: your tired smile, and the way you’re kind of curled in on yourself, as if trying to take up less space.

gives you a long hug with lots of cheek kisses and pulls you into the kitchen to show you what he’s working on: a dish that coincidentally happens to be your comfort food. it’s your favourite, especially when jun makes it in his own style.

this six foot man becomes small as he tries to do anything to make you smile. hates that you’re even feeling this way. throws random pickup lines at you to see which one gets you to crack and slap his arm and tell him to stop (he won’t, because he loves you too much).

offers to feed you dinner once it’s ready and makes random airplane noises that bring out a giggle from you. watches as you eat slowly and is glad when he sees your bowl is empty. doesn’t resist your offer of feeding him dinner once you’re done.

hides under the blankets with you and watches cat videos till your eyes shut from exhaustion and his arm hurts from holding up the phone from so long. cuddles with you and doesn’t let go even when you halfheartedly complain about how warm it is.

soonyoung

becomes so gentle that it pulls you out of your dullness a bit, makes you wonder where your usually hyperactive boyfriend is.

doesn’t baby you because he knows you don’t like it, but he makes sure you get everything you need. calls his mother to ask her the exact recipe for this soup she used to feed him when he used to get ill. stays by your side even when you have a raging fever and you’re worried he’s going to catch it if he kisses your cheek one more time.

doesn’t complain even once when you wake him up because of how uncomfortable you’re feeling. what else is he there for, if he can’t take care of the person he loves the most? wraps himself along with you in your blanket even if it’s hot enough that he can just melt.

is your hype man when you finally get better enough to start moving around the house by yourself. watches you with the biggest smile on his face that he will not tamp down when he sees you eating the soup he made, and almost cries with joy when you ask him for a second serving.

doesn’t blame you one bit when he catches the same bug a week later, because you’re there to take care of him through it, and because he loves you too much for it to be an issue.

wonwoo

gently pulls you into his chest the moment he sees your tear-streaked cheeks, and rests his head on yours. doesn’t ask you what’s wrong because he feels it’s more important to make you feel better.

doesn’t care that your tears are leaving behind a spot on his shirt, and shushes you for even pointing it out. in fact he wants you to do that so that you can run out of tears and he can take care of you properly.

gives you his hoodie to wear because it’s oversized on you, and he loves seeing you in it just as much as you love wearing it.

makes you wrap your arms around his waist from behind and cling onto him while he goes about the house finishing his share of chores. does yours without asking if he senses you’re too drained out to do them.

absolutely needs you by his side regardless of what he’s doing, whether it’s playing a game or brushing his teeth. offers to read you a book if you’re having trouble falling asleep. tells you he loves you in the lowest voice possible when he sees you finally asleep against his chest, breathing evened out.

jihoon

might not very verbal, but when it comes to you, he knows exactly what to do to make things better.

knows you’re in his studio when the door shuts, but you don’t greet him. decides to finish some edits on the song he’s working on before he turns to you, only to find you lying on the sofa facing away from him.

genuinely sad to hear you had a bad day. he got through today only because of all the encouraging texts you sent him. decides the least he can do is return the favour.

wraps you in your favourite blanket that he always keeps at the studio for when you visit. holds your hand regardless of whether you want to talk or not. offers to order food to the studio so that he can make sure you’re not hungry.

very thankful that you came to him because you were feeling down, and he very much wants to call it a day and take you home so that he can cuddle with you and make your day just a bit better.

seokmin

his mood almost always mirrors yours, so when he sees you so exhausted and down, his heart genuinely hurts.

not a confrontational person, but he’s willing to fight whatever made you sad, even if it was a table you stubbed your toe on. happy that it brings a smile to your face even if he didn’t actually fight anything.

have you seen his arms? wraps them around you till you push him off with a bit of a smile on your face. he then decides he wants to use them to bake something for you. you’re the better baker between the two of you and since he’s got loads of time today, he decides he wants to learn something that he can make the next time you’re away and he doesn’t have to feel that lonely.

is your own personal jukebox. belts out whatever song you want, and does a mini infinite aju nice in the comfort of your kitchen, making you jump while the oven works, till you’re tired and actually smiling.

“it’ll be okay, i promise. i love you.”

mingyu

hates that you had a nightmare but is thankful that he was sleeping right next to you when it happened.

the biggest cuddle bug you’ll ever see you in your life. when you wake him up with a shaky voice, he immediately blinks out of his sleep and holds you in his arms. he’ll hug you and keep hugging you till he can drain your sadness even just a little.

doesn’t matter how late it is; if you can’t go back to sleep, he’ll pull you to the kitchen and make his ramen just for you. makes you help him chop some ingredients and stir the broth so that you feel involved. keeps purposely bumping into you every time you cross paths and takes a kiss as payment.

finds some cheesy, slow music to dance to and gently pulls you all over the kitchen, twirling you and even bending you as the song ends. loves hearing your laugh when he pulls you back up.

“i hope you dream of me when you sleep again. i love you.”

minghao

words aren’t necessary when he can just take care of you the way you always deserve to be taken care of.

actually gets upset (a little) when you apologize for crying in front of him. who else will make you feel better when you’re down if not for him? makes you promise never to feel nervous to be emotional around him.

runs a bath for you and makes your favourite food. when you’re done with dinner and feeling a bit better, he takes you to bed and cuddles with you, wanting you to focus on his breathing so you can calm yourself. he whispers endearments into your ear. also makes sure you know how proud he is of you for getting through today.

would give you the entire world if he could, but when you tell him the only thing you want is him, he promises you he’s never going anywhere, no matter what happens.

“i’m so lucky to call myself yours, my love. always.”

seungkwan

he can never stand seeing his loved ones sad, so when he sees you, he needs to find a way to make your smile get back to your face.

sees your lips wobble when you say hello to him, and he eventually coaxes the issue out of you: your friends had ditched a get-together you’d been planning at the last minute, and they didn’t even have the decency to apologize for it. he feels extremely angry on your behalf and is ready to curse. doesn’t do it only because it won’t help you.

thinks about what he can do to make you happy. asks if he can take you out on a drive tonight so you can watch the stars with him. when you regretfully decline the offer, he asks if you want to create a blanket fort and watch movies or go to sleep.

it’s not long before he’s constructing a blanket fort for the first time in his life thanks to some youtube tutorials. he’s upset when it collapses right in the middle of constructing it, but he realizes he’d build it a hundred times more if it meant you’d laugh the way you just did.

sets up snacks and your favourite drinks after a while. keeps apologizing to you on behalf of your so-called friends till you tell him to stop. promises that he’s always going to be with you, and that you don’t have to be sad when you’re with him. falls asleep with you in his arms, and a smile on your face, snacks and movies forgotten.

hansol

feels bad the moment he sees you try to mask the sadness on your face with a smile.

better with actions than words, so he kisses your forehead and trails you around the house while you try to relax from the day you had. if you’re really sad, he lets you just rest your head against his collarbone and breathe till you feel better.

“you’ve got this, and you’ve got me, okay? i’m right here.”

has a bunch of handmade coupons for whenever you feel sad. each coupon has the same four options: eat, talk, watch a movie, sleep. does whatever you choose, whether it’s only one or all four.

another one who has no problem with prolonged eye contact. he looks at you till you understand that he loves you more than he can say and that he’s always there for you when you feel like this.

chan

always used to being babied by his older brothers, so he feels happy to get a chance to take care of you. just doesn’t like the fact that you’re sad, because you deserve to be anything but.

very transparent with his affection for you. he whispers “i love you” into your hair when you ask him for a hug, shouts it across the living room when you come out to get some water, and holds your hand under the table during dinner even if it’s inconvenient.

if you’re really down, and don’t feel like talking, he bundles you into a blanket and puts you on the sofa and sits close to you, so that you have your space but he’s close enough if you need him.

sits with you while you work and watches intently even if he doesn’t understand much of what you’re doing. ready to go to the store and get you anything you’re craving, regardless of how late it is.

“i love looking after you, okay? don’t ever feel bad about telling me what’s troubling you.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Video

“Shoot, I don’t know about this. Something about watching this feels weird.”

My bro just kept holding my face, “You said you wanted to be one of the bros dude. Just keep watching, this video will tell you everything you need to know”

“Yeah, you said that, but this is just static and nonsense, and something about it has me on edge. Just let me get out of here.”

“But don’t it speak to you? Isn’t there something you want to let out jock boy.”

“I…no, no I… I can’t… stop, what’s happening?”

“Jock boy is about to learn what being a bro is all about. Jock boy wants to listen carefully to his bro and watch the video.”

“No no no… but, it… it sounds so… calm…”

“Yeah jock boy, just like a mind vacation. Just let it happen. Good jock boy.”

“Must… listen… to… bruuuuhhh.”

Sometimes it takes a little convincing, but eventually they all fall. Their eyes grow wide before their muscles go limp and mouths drop open. It usually only takes a little bit for them to process. But when they finally do come too, it’s like a whole different world in there. The first one I did by accident. Found the weird file and sent it to my roommate as a joke. It wasn’t until I got back from class that I saw just how much power I now had.

Gone was the theater kid, in his place was a souped up bro ready to knock back some cold ones, and get sweaty in the gym. It was a surprise when he began rubbing my thigh in the sauna, and pulled me in for a kiss. I melted in his arms as he positioned me on the bench and began stretching me out. I was so relaxed he slid in with no lube, fucking me raw and hard as his tongue kept my mouth distracted from moaning. Thought I just got lucky there, happened to get a gay guy. But I quickly learned for him now, “any hole’s a goal.” And it was confirmed when I tried it with a second guy:

Good old Southern boy, and as straight as they came. Thought he was hot shit in class. Sent him the file when we were on a group project together. By the next day when he came in, he couldn’t add two numbers together with a calculator. He was still smug as hell but in bed, let’s just say he earned it. He was about as thick as an ear of corn, and he knew how to plow a field and spread his seed.

I had tried a couple others since then. A scholarship rival here. A group mate there. A couple disappointing dates that ended up really turning the night around. But my friend had finally gotten curious and started asking some questions. I didn’t need someone to question what was happening. I needed a lifting buddy. This was my first time trying to edit the file to get some different results.

“Hey, bro? What happened last night? I feel hung over as fuck..”

Holy shit he was massive. “Nothing too much bro. You just got fucking shit faced.”

“Huhuhu, yeah,” he gawfed, “sounds right.

It was time to try the trigger and see how much the changes worked, “Hey, jock boy, tell me your name.”

His laughter stopped as his eyes glossed over, “My name is Jack, but my friends just call me Jacked.”

“What do you want more than anything, jock boy?”

“To serve my bros,” he replied.

“Will you do anything for them?”

His mind flickered for a moment. I saw a look of confusion pass over him. He looked down, “Hey, what… WHAT HAPPENED? What did you do-“

I walked up and held his face“JOCK BOY, STOP.”

He tried to fight it, his mind pulling him back to the abyss. But as I watched his body slowly relax, I knew I had won even before he said, “Ye-yeah. Sure thing bro.”

“Jock Boy, will you do anything for your bros?”

His face broke out in a shiteating grin, “Fuck yeah, anything for my bros.”

“New exercise routine. You, face down, ass up. My bed. Now.”

He excitedly ran back to my bedroom. I heard the bed squeal under his weight. Good to know I could edit things. Can’t always let my bros have all the fun.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Might as well be drunk in love: 3 of 3

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: HAPPY HOSEOK'S DAY! We made it! 2/7!!

Part 1, Part 2

Your smile was genuine when you met Kim Taehyung’s eyes.

Unlike the others who were punctual, he was a minute late. He was grinning though like he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share to you.

“You seem happy, Taehyung,” you remarked as you stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking with each heartbeat. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he waited eagerly for you to reach him. The only indication of his bubbling excitement was the way he bounced slightly on his feet. He looked so much lighter in this light, you noticed, the usual darkness in his eyes was nowhere to be found.

He looked truly happy like the sun had decided to shine just for him.

“I am,” he said, his grin widening even more. His eyes sparkled with anticipation. How can he not be happy when you were near? “You’re here with me. With us. How can I not be happy?” he murmured, gently pulling your hand into his and clasping your fingers tightly.

You blinked, surprised by his blatant statement. The potion was indeed so powerful that even the cold Taehyung turned into this kind of person you would want for you own had it been a different circumstance. You thought that whoever he would choose to love after all this fiasco would be the luckiest person.

However, you chose to not dwell on his statement. You were extremely happy with the good news your friend shared with you. There would be a cure soon, and you just knew that you would be nothing to him and all of them after this but a fleeting memory. You decided to hold on for a little while longer, and maybe just lived in the moment where this was a possibility. Sooner rather than later, they would go back to not knowing and caring who you were.

You cleared your throat, “So, where are you taking me?”

Taehyung took a sip from his coffee, the takeout food laid on either side of you on the bench. A smile tugged at your lips at the peculiarity of it all—here was one of the richest men in South Korea, someone with immense influence, choosing to share a simple day in the park with you. It felt surreal, the laughter of children and rustling leaves wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“This is really good,” he hummed appreciatively, his eyes lighting up as he sampled one of the dishes from the food truck. “And it’s really cheap. I cannot believe those fancy restaurants charge so much when the food is just so-so.”

“Right? Finally, someone from the rich admitted it!” you laughed, your voice mingling with the sounds of the park. “I always wondered if the taste buds of the rich are just inherently different from us. There’s no way you guys are satisfied with those little servings of dishes. Also, is this your first time eating here?”

“Yes…” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the pond sheepishly. “I always wanted to do this with a girlfriend. You know, those TV dramas show how romantic this is.”

You couldn’t help but grin at his confession and the innocence in his voice. The sincerity of his confession made him endearing, if not more. “So, here we are, living the drama, huh? Too bad you didn’t do this with your real girlfriend.”

He glared at you, his expression mock-serious, before playfully snatching your hand and fully enclosing it with his. “You’re my real girlfriend,” he grumbled childishly, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Your heart raced at the sudden intimacy, warmth flooding through you. “Oh, really? Guess I should start practicing my dramatic sighs and longing gazes then,” you teased, squeezing his hand gently.

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin, his earlier shyness melting away. “I expect nothing less from my leading lady.”

It was a nice lunch out which should have ended as nicely as it started.

But you should have known your wish was too good to be true.

You were walking with him on your way back to the office when he randomly decided to go back and buy his brothers takeout food. He claimed that since he thoroughly enjoyed it, his brothers should too so that they would know just what they were missing. He asked you to wait for a little while before he turned back. And you did. You were contented with scrolling through your social media when you were interrupted.

“Excuse me, miss?” A man called for you, his smile was warm as he looked at you. “May I know what time it is?”

“Oh uhm, it’s 1:37,” you replied, glancing at the screen of your phone.

He thanked you politely before resuming his walk when he abruptly stopped. He chuckled sheepishly, looking at you over his lashes. “I really don’t need to know the time. I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this. You’re just so beautiful –”

“May I help you?” Taehyung’s voice suddenly cut through the air, firm yet protective as he reappeared, a bag of takeout in hand. He stepped in front of you, effectively blocking you from the other man’s view. His face was void of any emotion, yet he managed to terrify the man.

The man straightened, clearly caught off guard. Taehyung’s presence shifted the atmosphere, his expression a mix of confusion and an underlying feeling of intimidation. “Uh, I was just… asking the time,” the man stammered, taking a step back.

Taehyung’s gaze narrowed slightly, a hint of a challenge in his posture. “Right. And now you’ve got the time. Anything else?”

“Man, I’m not looking for any trouble. I-I just really thought she’s single. I meant no harm!” the man protested, his voice shaky.

“Why are you still here?” Taehyung whispered, the sound of irritation was heavy in his tone. “Why are you still looking at my woman?” He asked, the words coming out as a low growl, each syllable deliberate and heavy.

The air between you crackled with tension as the man’s face blanched, realizing he had crossed a line. He raised his hands defensively, backing away further. “I—I didn’t know! Sorry, I just thought—”

“Thought what?” Taehyung pressed, taking a step forward, his stance unwavering. “That it was okay to interrupt her? To make her uncomfortable?” He was too close to the man, his hands closed to a fist as though he was just one look away from exploding. “That you can steal her away from us?!”

How could you ever think that he was something other than the darkness that was caging his heart? How could you ever be so naïve? “Hey, it’s fine. He didn’t bother me at all,” you interjected gently, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated further. “Let’s just let him go.”

Gone was the sweet man you perceived him to be not long ago, and in his place was the darkness you always knew him to be when he slowly turned around after the man swiftly escaped the situation. “Remember this, little one,” he started, his voice grave yet commanding, a blend of promise and threat. “We are the only one for you.”

You couldn't shake off the discomfort that Taehyung's interaction had stirred within you.

You were deep in your thoughts, terror and anxiety in your heart. He was the third in the schedule and you still had four to go. All the interactions you had with the boys so far only made you see the warning signs flashing in your mind. This was a wrong decision. You should have heeded your friend’s warning about spending time with them and avoided skinship as much as possible.  

You should have focused on finding the cure. However, you couldn’t just turn your back on them, not when they all acted like they were on their deathbeds as though you were the only cure, badly needing you to take their next breath. The weight of their dependency tugged at your conscience, making it harder to escape the turmoil that surrounded you. Hence, your predicament.

Taehyung’s reaction was too much. The potion was turning them into jealous, possessive men, their natural temperaments amplified into something almost unrecognizable. It had only been three days since the potion had taken effect, yet it seemed to amplify their emotions, turning them into jealous, clingy versions of themselves. You felt a chill run down your spine as you recalled the way his eyes had darkened, how intense his gaze had been, as if he saw you as something he needed to protect at all costs.

Consumed by these unsettling thoughts, you almost forgot about Jungkook entirely. His presence had slipped into the background amidst the chaos Taehyung’s behavior had caused. That is, until the hurried sound of footsteps interrupted your spiral. You turned, startled, to find a group of Jungkook’s guards, their expressions tight with fear. Wide-eyed and breathless, they approached you swiftly, the urgency in their movements sending a wave of panic through you.

“What—what’s happening?” you stammered, confusion mixing with dread.

“Mr. Jeon… he’s not well,” another guard murmured, his tone serious. “It’s bad.”

Your heart sank as the weight of their words hit you. Jungkook was not well.  If Taehyung’s possessiveness had shaken you, the thought of Jungkook in a similar state terrified you even more. Without hesitation, you followed them, a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

As you neared his floor, the muffled sounds of destruction reached you—sharp crashes, the unmistakable sound of something heavy being thrown, followed by a guttural, enraged grunt. The noise alone made your skin crawl, but you pushed forward.

“Go in,” one of the guards pleaded, his voice quiet but urgent as you hesitated. You could hear the familiar voices of Jin and Namjoon on the other side of the door, their tones strained as they attempted to calm him.

“Jungkook, breathe,” Namjoon was saying, his voice low, trying to inject calm into the chaos.

“Come on, it’s okay,” Jin added, though the strain in his voice betrayed the calm facade he was trying to maintain. “She’ll be here. She didn’t leave… relax.”

The guard beside you pushed the door open, leaving you no choice but to face your oversight. Suffice to say, the scene before you sent a fresh wave of fear through your body.

Jungkook’s office was a mess. Papers were scattered across the floor, a desk chair lay on its side, and the corner of the large wooden desk had a jagged crack running through it as if something—or someone—had hit it too hard. A shattered vase lay in pieces, its contents scattered across the floor.

In the center of the chaos stood Jungkook. His back was to you, his broad shoulders heaving with labored breaths, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Even from where you stood, you could feel the tension radiating off him like a living thing. His stark, dark hair was disheveled, his usually sharp, precise appearance completely undone by whatever storm was raging inside him.

You knew you caused it. You were aware of you effect on them, but heavens, you didn’t know it to be this bad.

Namjoon was the first to notice you. His draconic eyes, once calm and calculating, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. The second your startled gaze met his, you saw it—the darkness swirling in him, consuming him. He hadn’t seen you since last night, and the distance had frayed his already strained control. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing as if he were holding himself back from lunging at you. He needed you. Desperately.

But the leader in him fought against the urge, restraining the primal hunger clawing at his insides. He knew he had to hold back—for now. The others needed you just as much as he did. He could wait. He had to wait. His fingers twitched at his sides, betraying the struggle within him.

He could wait until tonight.

He had to.

“Thank God,” Jin breathed when he noticed your presence. He stepped away from Jungkook.

Jungkook’s head snapped up the moment you stepped further into the room. His body froze, as though sensing your presence before even turning to look at you. Slowly, he turned around, and the intensity in his eyes when they locked onto yours was nearly suffocating. His dark eyes, wide with emotion, bore into you, his lips parted slightly as he struggled to catch his breath.

The room went still as Jungkook’s gaze never wavered from you. You could feel the raw intensity behind his eyes, the same kind of possessiveness you had seen in Taehyung but magnified tenfold in Jungkook. It wasn’t just desperation; it was obsession, need, something far more dangerous than mere jealousy.

“You…” he stammered; his voice rough from all the screaming he had done. His words were laced with desperation and disbelief. “Y-you didn’t leave us, Noona?”

The room was too silent as though their stability rested entirely on your next move. You knew you had to thread extremely carefully.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, your knees locked. You brain was screaming for you to run away from him. “Jungkook,” you whispered, his name fragile on your lips.

It was him who decided for you.

He hated the distance. It gnawed at him, fraying what little control he had left. He took a step forward, his fists still clenched, muscles tense as if he were fighting some invisible restraint. “Don’t leave me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a command beneath the words. His hands caressed your cheeks and tilted you face to meet his eyes. “You… you can’t leave me. You cannot leave us.”

He didn’t let you leave. And you couldn’t as well, not when he was visibly distraught. Most especially, not when his arms were wrapped around you like a vine. Before you knew it, you were lying on the sofa in his office, Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you like vines, pulling you impossibly close. His body pressed against yours, seeking warmth, seeking comfort. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of his emotions was palpable. His grip on you never loosened, his head buried in the crook of your neck as if he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

The only reassurance he seemed to accept was having you there, physically close to him, where he could feel you, touch you, and know that you hadn’t disappeared. But as comforting as your presence was to him, it left you uncomfortable, stressed by the weight of the situation. Jungkook was too close, his grip too tight, and the intensity of it all made your mind scream for space, for distance. But you couldn’t move—not when each time you tried to shift even slightly, he would hold on tighter, and the quiet, broken sobs would return, muffled against your skin.

Your unlikely savior came at exactly 3 in the afternoon.

Min Yoongi opened the door in a relaxed manner as though he was the owner of the office, his bored eyes finding your form on the sofa. His relaxed demeanor was a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the room. Jungkook hadn’t noticed him yet, but you softly calling Yoongi’s name alerted him of his presence —more a sigh of relief than an actual greeting—it was enough to pull Jungkook’s attention. Yoongi raised his brow at Jungkook, his expression impassive as ever, a silent question if the younger man was finally okay. Jungkook’s only response was the slight untightening of his grip on you. The shift was hesitant, reluctant, but it was there. Slowly, his arms loosened, though his body still remained close, not quite ready to let you go entirely. His possessiveness had dulled, but it was far from gone.

Yoongi’s gaze softened when he turned it back to you, his expression warm and unexpectedly gentle. He knew what you had endured, the strain it had caused you, and for once, the sharp edges in his usually indifferent demeanor softened into something close to tenderness.

"Good afternoon, darling," Yoongi said in his low, easy drawl, a hint of amusement dancing behind his words. “I’ve come to save you.”

Yoongi knew how overwhelming and overstimulating things could be sometimes. For the life of him and despite the instincts screaming in his head to have you close, he chose to silently walk beside you. You had been through enough for today.

You didn’t even question where the two of you were going. It was like all the energy you had was drained from you. You were silent even as he closed the car door for you, was speechless even when he expertly drove away from the building. Min Yoongi was just exactly what you needed after the conundrum being with Jungkook brought.

“I know it was tough,” Yoongi said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you two. His voice was low, steady, as though he had been waiting for the right moment to speak. His hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, but you could feel the weight of his attention on you. Even without looking at you, Yoongi had this uncanny ability to make you feel seen, like he was always aware of what you needed before you even realized it yourself. “But still, thank you for calming him down.”

The soft hum of the car filled the space, and though you didn’t respond immediately, you knew Yoongi didn’t expect you to. From the short time that you were with them, you noticef that he had always been like that—patient, never pushing you to speak before you were ready. His quiet understanding was something that set him apart. There was no rush with him, no urgency to force words or explanations from you. Just his presence, calm and grounding, allowing you to gather your thoughts.

You nodded slowly, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. The memory of Jungkook’s desperate grip on you, the way he had refused to let you go, still lingered, and it was too raw to put into words. But Yoongi didn’t push. He never did. He was just… there, giving you the space to process, to breathe. “I owe it to all of you. This was all my fault…”

Yoongi’s gaze shifted toward you, and for a moment, he looked at you as though you’d just said something utterly ridiculous. His brow furrowed, and the corners of his lips tilted into a frown of disbelief. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. “This isn’t your fault. How could you have known? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Min Yoongi was just the reprieved you needed. Where the others seemed consumed by their need for you, Yoongi remained steady, unaffected by the storm raging around them.

He took you home and told you that he already took care of your supervisor and said that you were needed for a meeting. A wave of gratitude washed over you, and you couldn’t help the small, tired smile that tugged at your lips. You didn’t know how to thank him properly, but it seemed Yoongi didn’t need grand gestures. His way of caring was quiet and understated, but it spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but Yoongi’s small nod told you he heard it.

Your schedule with him was calm, much like his demeanor. The kitchen felt like a small sanctuary, the aroma of garlic and herbs wafting through the air as you chopped vegetables together. The music of your choice filled the space, a playful backdrop to the evening.

You smiled to yourself, caught up in the moment. Suddenly, a chuckle broke your reverie. You turned to see him shaking his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Bad Romance by Lady Gaga?” he teased, but there was no edge to his words—just a warm acceptance of your quirky taste. You shrugged, a grin spreading across your face. It felt domestic, this shared moment, and you savored it. And yes, Bad Romance was truly a banger song.

But then, the atmospere shifted. Lost in thought, you almost missed his sudden remark. “I heard from Hoseok that your friend found a cure for the love potion.” His voice was steady, almost indifferent, yet you caught the tension in the way he gripped the counter, knuckles whitening against the cool surface. His eyes were focused on his task, a deliberate action on his part.

You nodded, surely this was good news for them, right?

 “That’s…good.”

It did not sound like it was good. You considered asking him, pressing for clarity, but you hesitated. This was Yoongi, after all. He wasn’t a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, and pushing too hard might cause him to withdraw further. But your instinct, the one that had kept you grounded in moments like this, told you to be careful. You trusted him, both him and Seokjin, but trust was a fragile thing—especially when it came to the men who surrounded you.

After you two finished cooking, he found you sitting on the sofa, mindlessly searching for what to watch when he lied down, his head resting on your legs. You looked down, surprised but not displeased. You noted how he refrained from physically touching you the past hour, his control and thoughtfulness of your situation did not go unnoticed by you. “I tried to hold off as long as I could,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed as he settled in.

You chuckled softly, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “Thank you for being considerate, Yoongi.” The weight of his head on your lap felt grounding, a connection that made the world outside seem distant.

It was five in the afternoon when you decided to freshen up. The entire day, despite it being only being afternoon, left you exhausted. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion that clawed at you; it was the emotional toll of navigating conversations that felt more like tightrope walks than exchanges. Each word had to be measured, each response carefully calculated. It was like it would only take one wrong word for them to crumble. Each of them just as needy as the others.

It did not come as a surprise when you stepped out of the bathroom and found the one and only Park Jimin in your bedroom. His head was hanging low as he sat on your bed, his form slouched as he stared down. Gone was his suit, and his necktie hung loosely around his collar as though he had spent the entire day tugging at it.

“Jimin?”

Slowly, he looked up. His dark eyes were impassive, the usual glint gone. He looked so far from the sweet persona he usually had, and in his place was a man that was emitting dangerous vibes. “Little one,” he called, his voice low and toneless. “I heard your...” he trailed off, his scoffed a telltale sign of what exactly he was feeling. “-friend found us a cure.”

You blinked owlishly, caught off guard with how displeased he looked. He raised his brow at your prolonged silence, “What’s wrong, honey?” He stood up and sauntered to you, his faux concern so thick that you could almost choke at it. “All seven of us are sick from that love potion, right? So it’s only correct that we get the ‘cure’, right?”

You looked up to meet his eyes as he neared you, his chest almost touching yours from his proximity. “Are we sick to you, little one?”

“I—” you started, your heart beating fast from his line of questioning. The intensity of his line of questioning made your pulse quicken. He tilted his head, his finger catching droplets of water that had escaped from your hair, trailing slowly down your neck.

“Hmm? You what?” His voice was low, teasing yet laced with something darker.

“I just want you all to return to your normal life,” you answered truthfully. “I know everything happening is not normal for any of you. Your life does not involve around…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “This chaos. You deserve to be free.”

He paused with his ministration, his hand hovering near your chest. A flicker of something crossed his face and you failed to decipher whether it was from amusement or annoyance. He stepped even impossibly closer. He looked down at you and whispered something that terrified you. “Did you ask us if we want to go back to how it was? Little one, did you even ask if we need a cure?”

Involuntarily, your foot took a step back. The weight of his words came crushing down on you. You were shaking your head even before he could finish saying his piece. You thought that it was a ridiculous thought anyway. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Park Jimin. None of what you’re all feeling is real,” you implored him, willing his true self to understand what you were saying, and not the version of himself that was ‘in love’ with you. “This potion-it’s not who you are.”

His gaze held steady, dark and penetrating as though what you said set off something in him…something they all tried so hard to contain. “And what will you do if this is who we want to be? What if we want these versions of ourselves that are so utterly in love with you, little one? What then?”

You felt your breath hitched at every word and expose he was telling you. “But it’s a lie. You can’t love something or someone that’s been forced upon you. This isn’t love. You have to know that.”

It was a little while before he even responded again as silence enveloped the room. The only indication that he heard you was that subtle tilt in his head. “I see you still see all this as lovesickness and not destiny.”

“Because it is!” you insisted, the desperation for him to see the truth made your voice rose. “You can’t really believe that this is meant to be!”

Jimin shook his head, strands of his hair cascading on his forehead, breaking the carefully gelled up appearance of his. “You’ll get sick, too,” he whispered as though it was an omen, as though foretelling a fate that even you couldn’t comprehend.

But you would later on.

You heard him wrong…right? There was no way he said that.

“What?” The word came out as breathless gasp, disbelief flooding your senses.

He smiled innocently, the sudden playfulness in his expression felt like a mask. “Let me dry your hair before you get sick, little one.” His tone may have seemed so casual, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you couldn’t talk sense into him, not when the seven of them were neck-deep in the effects of that love potion. Furthermore, you knew that insisting that what they were all feeling was far from reality would only leave them feeling abandoned by the supposedly love of their lives: you. You couldn’t make them see reason, at least not now.

Right now, the only way to calm down the simmering annoyance and angst in him was to let him do what he wanted to do. Jimin was gentle and thorough as he dried your hair, his touch so soft as though you were made of porcelain, something he feared might shatter.

“See how good I take care of you, little one? How good we all treat you?” he murmured, his voice particularly low and soothing as he worked the towel through your damp locks.

You felt your heart ache at the sincerity in his words, even if they were colored by the potion’s influence. “Jimin…” you started, but the protest caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. He met your eyes through the mirror, his chin resting on your shoulder and rush of warmth and happiness passed through him. He fucking loved you, he thought to himself as an even fiercer conviction took root. You would see it soon.

“You are our queen, my love,” he continued with fierce intensity. “Don’t you see?”

But if this was love, then it felt like a prison to you. The sensation of his arms wrapped around you felt less like an embrace and more like shackles, binding you to a reality that terrified you. The walls felt as if they were closing in, the weight of his affection pressing down on your chest. You felt it even more when he placed his plump lips on your neck.

“And we will always sacrifice everything for our queen.”

As soon as the clock hit 7 in the evening, you tore yourself away from his embrace and ran down to the living room, already typing down on your phone to call for a meeting with the boys when you saw them already sitting there. They seemed to be in a deep conversation, their voices low and their faces serious. Sitting in the middle of them all was Kim Namjoon who had his eyes closed and his head resting against the backrest of the sofa. He looked similar to how he was when he trapped you in the elevator. He almost seemed to be sleeping had it not been the slight tremors in his hands that gave it away.

It was as though they were attuned to your presence when they all turned their heads to where you were, sans Namjoon, their conversation coming into a halt. It was eerie, you thought. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the synchronized movement, as if they were all part of some unsettling choreography.

“There she is,” Hoseok said brightly his face lighting up with a happiness that seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere. On his lap was your cat who was sporting a new collar. And was that gold?! “How was your day, little one?”

“We need to talk.”

“Uh-oh,” Taehyung plainly commented, his hand absentmindedly playing with Jungkook’s hair. His carefree gesture was a complete contrast to the seriousness in his face. “I already don’t like this.”

“Park Jimin, what did you do now?” Yoongi quipped, raising an eyebrow as he caught sight of the mentioned man entering the living room behind you. There was a teasing lilt in his voice, but the underlying concern was palpable.

Jimin smirked, holding your hand briefly when he passed you and sat down beside the quiet Namjoon. “Nothing. I just…dried her hair.”

Jin shook his head, shooting the maknae line a look of disappointment. He just knew that they did something today. Afterall, he thought that the younger men didn’t know the meaning of control and working in the shadows. He would talk to them later. They should have known how much of a flight risk you were. They were just banking on the kindness of your heart and how they used it to play with your conscience. It was that and Namjoon and Hoseok’s tactics that got you here, after all. They should all play smartly if they wanted this to last forever. And for now, making you happy was the way to that. He stood up and walked to you. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.  “I heard from Hoseok that there is a cure. Is this about it, my love?”

“Let’s hear it then, noona,” Jungkook said with a smile on your face. It was a deceitful smile, you noted to yourself. How he could turn his playfulness and innocence on and off was terrifying, and the evidence of it was staring right at your face. You looked down and saw his bandaged hand from the breakdown from earlier.

Yoongi offered you an encouraging smile and you were only too thankful for his quiet support. You didn’t think twice to sit when he tapped down the empty space beside him. “A-as you all know, my friend’s grandmother knows of a cure in the mountains-”

Taehyung’s sharp scoffed interrupted you. “You’re tired of taking care of your mess when it’s only been a day?” His tone may be playful, but there was an edge to it.

You took a dee breath, “I know this is all difficult for all of us. But if she knows something, if there is even a small chance that there is really a cure, then shouldn’t we go for it? If this can help-”

“Help us?” Jimin interjected, his tone softer but laced with frustration. “Help us how? By running off to the mountains while we’re all here struggling with these feelings?”

“And how will we even know that you’ll come back to us?” Hoseok added, his anger bubbling to the surface. “What if you just leave?” he voiced the heavy question everyone in the room had been thinking about, not that they would let you, anyway.

The atmosphere grew tense, and you could feel the weight of their accusations pressing down on you. “It isn’t fair,” you retorted, your voice trembling slightly.

“Well, it was never fair to the seven of us,” Taehyung shot back, his tone sharp. “We were minding our own business when your negligence caused us this situation. You are to blame, and all you want is to escape from it.”

You could no longer take all the blamings, you realized. You were not the only one to blame in this, right? You were just as victim as they were! And the oldest should also share the blame! “But he knew!”

Seokjin blinked owlishly, attention now on him as you pointed your finger at him. “Knew what?”

“You knew that that pink tumbler wasn’t yours! You said so yourself that you knew it wasn’t yours because yours had coffee in it! You knew and you kept on drinking!”

“Ah, right” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he offered sheepish looks at the other CEOs who were all looking at him with seriousness and disbelief in their eyes. “What? It was delicious, right?!”

“Well, yeah it was,” Yoongi approved, his voice low. He looked like he was already long done with this conversation with the way he was leaning against the backrest and you knew with just one push he would already be lying down and dozing off. However, his attention was still on you as he played with the strands of your hair.

“So, if you are all blaming me, shouldn’t you put blame on him, too? He offered you the drink knowing that it wasn’t his! And he didn’t tell you all!”

Jungkook nodded, completely agreeing at whatever you were saying as long as you kept talking. Your voice was melody to his ears, like a siren, he thought. If he was a cartoon, you were sure that he’d already have heart coming out of his eyes from the way he was looking at you. He was giggling like a child, his chin resting on his palm, his body turned to you. “You’re right, noona. It’s Jin hyung’s fault. We should kick him out of the house or exchange him for ice cream…Speaking of! What’s your favorite flavor, my love?”

“Fine! Then sue me! Arrest me! But lock me with her forever!” Seokjin exclaimed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

“Seokjin, for the love of all that’s good-“

“I love it when you call me that,” he said with sincerity in his voice.

“I literally just called you your name!” you shot back in exasperation.

“Yes. That. I love it.”

“Oh my God, we’re getting off track!” You exclaimed in frustration. “The cure. It’s worth pursuing, don’t you all think? Isn’t that why I’m here in the first place? To alleviate the effects of the love potion?”

You knew you had them when they looked at each other in silence. “And what’s more alleviating than actually freeing us all from the effects of that potion?” you continued, your voice steady, determined. “If we have a chance to break this spell—if we can find a way to return to our normal lives—shouldn’t we take it?”

“You’re not going alone. We are coming with you,” Kim Namjoon broke his silence for the first time that night. You couldn’t help but notice the strain in his voice despite the firm way he delivered his demand, a telltale sign that he needed you now. It was already past seven, and he was the last one in the schedule. It was already way past his schedule, and he had been patient and enduring enough. He just knew that anytime now he would break. He opened his eyes, and his gaze locked onto yours, “Tomorrow. We go to the mountains.”

Before anyone could respond, he stood up swiftly, his long legs carrying him away from the eruption of chaos and disagreement that erupted from his statement. The others began to voice their objections, a flurry of protests filling the room.

Yet, he never stopped.

“You know you have to come to him, right, noona?” Jungkook said amidst the chaos. “Namjoon hyung is suffering…”

“He has been patient,” Hoseok added, admiring the strength and resolved that their lead CEO had. “But he needs you, too.”

The walk to his room was long despite the reasonable distance. It must have been because of the rapid beating of your heart as you walked to the unknown. The six of them all showed their dark side, the possessive, obsessive and jealous side that terrified you. You wondered what the last member would show you tonight.

But they were right.

Despite your fear and restlessness, you had to honor your responsibility with them.

Your knuckles had barely grazed his door when it opened from the inside, revealing the disheveled lead CEO.

Kim Namjoon was breathing hard despite the cool air inside his room. The usually composed lead CEO looked disheveled and visible exhausted. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, strands of his dark hair tousled as if his fingers had raked through them in frustration. He had already donned out his dark suit, his white and crisp shirt was unbuttoned. His muscular chest was glistening with sweat. Your eyes traced his form and found him barefooted.

This was as unmade as you ever witnessed him to be.

You were right, you realized. Kim Namjoon suffered the most today as he was the last one in the schedule. The way he was looking at you made it seemed like you were nothing to him but a prey, one that he had been desperately hunting the whole day. His silence only made you more tensed. "Namjoon," you began softly, concern evident in your voice as you stepped closer despite wanting to run away. "Are you alright?"

Instead of a reassuring answer, his demeanor shifted. His answer was pulling you inside his lair. His movements were quick. Desperate. Frantic. The sound of lock clicking loudly in the quiet of the room. This wasn't the controlled man you were accustomed to—this was someone else entirely, someone driven by raw instinct and need.

Every step he took towards you was a step you took backwards. He was sauntering to you like a predator would, his movements slow and deliberate like someone who knew had you trapped. His muscles were tensed like he was barely holding onto his control. His eyes, usually so warm, now bore into you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the tension radiating from him, his body coiled like a spring about to snap. You had an inkling that he wasn’t okay, but you never expected him to be this intense, this desperate.

"N-Namjoon, please," you stammered, your concern growing as his presence overwhelmed you, "You’re not okay. Let me get some help, okay?"

He scoffed softly, a sound that dripped with frustration and desire. The truth was plain to see—he wasn't just physically spent; there was something deeper unsettling him, something that demanded your presence, your touch, as if you were the anchor he desperately needed.

He knew if he didn’t have you in his arms in the next second, then he would truly lose it. He was desperate for you. And so, for the first time ever, he damned the consequences.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?! No-“

“I need to feel your skin or I will fucking lose it, little one,” he gritted, his hands formed into fists in an attempt to ground him. He didn’t want to scare you, that was the last thing he wanted.

But he was scaring himself. The dizzying need for you was terrifying him. Dark thoughts were swirling in his mind: all of them were of losing you. He didn’t know what would happen if they lost you. He didn’t know what they would be capable of if you had someone else.

The only thing that could calm him down was you. But you were stubborn, weren’t you? He saw your eyes darted to the door behind him, assessing the probability that you could escape him. It wouldn’t happen, he was certain. Not in the state he was in.

“Don’t,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “Don’t test me tonight, little one. I am barely holding it in.”

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered in admittance, your eyes begging him to be sane, to at least reach the Namjoon inside him that knew this was a grey area.

He paused in front of you. he was breathing hard and his eyes seemed to be all dark. His voice was low as he explained his need for you and his promise that the two of you would only be sleeping.

Tonight, he claimed that you would be safe.

“I won’t ask again, little one,” he whispered as he looked down at you. “Remove your clothes and get on the bed.”

“And we’ll just sleep?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

He nodded. What he didn’t tell you was how he wasn’t sure if you could still be safe from the monsters you woke up inside them tomorrow. But that was tomorrow’s problem.

His eyes followed your every reluctant movement as you walked near to his bed. This was all so sudden, and the darkness of the room didn’t help you observe his personality that was reflected in his room. However, you were thankful for the darkness because it gave you the courage to do as he bade without the full weight of his gaze on you. Shadows danced across the walls and with a shaky breath, you finally sat on the edge of the bed, the sheets soft and inviting beneath you. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, seemed to wrap around you like a comforting shroud. It was easier to let the shadows obscure your uncertainties.

You began to remove your shirt, your heart racing as you felt his eyes on you, the intensity palpable. The fabric slipped away, leaving you feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated.

“The shorts, little one,” he ordered quietly, his eyes still on you as he shrugged of his white shirt. He raised his brows when a flicker of stubbornness crossed your face, a silent warning that he was at the very edge of a cliff. With shaky hands, you pushed off your shorts before quickly getting under his thick blanket, hiding your exposed skin from his eyes.

Your heard the buckle of his belt coming undone, and the sound of zipper following next was too loud in the silence of his room which made you shut your eyes closed. But the prolonged silence made you take a peek. And there he was. He was stalking to you, his muscular chest bared for your eyes, his thighs so thick and strong. The only thing he still had on was his black boxers that leave nothing to the imagination.

You shrieked when he got on the bed confidently and flipped the blanket to the side, baring your body to him, both his arms encasing you as he hovered above you.

“N-Namj–” your words left you when he settled his weight on you, every ridges and corners of his body was touching you. His nose was on your neck, breathing in your scent. His hands moved from the side of your head down to your wrist, and everything he touched left goosebumps on your skin. “Don’t fight this,” he whispered as he pulled your wrist above your head and kept them prisoned there.

“Y-you told me we’re just going to sleep,” you reminded him, your voice shaking slightly as you felt the heat radiating from Namjoon’s body. The tension in the air felt electric, and your heart raced.

“I told you. You are safe with me tonight.”

His hard member certainly did not make you feel safe. You could feel his hardness poking your stomach, and you were no saint to not know what it meant. You were certainly not that innocent to not be affected by this. You were embarrassed with how you could feel your arousal seeping to your underwear, and you hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

You jumped when you felt his tongue swiped at the expanse of your neck. You were trying to free yourself away from his hold when he nipped at your skin, sucking at it hard enough to know that it was going to leave a mark. All the while, his hips were slowly thrusting to you as though he was barely holding onto his thin control.

“Do you not feel safe, little one?” he taunted, his voice deeper than you ever heard of him. He lifted his head from your neck, his dark eyes glinting with something akin to an animalistic desire to have you. “Is the pleasure too much for you?” he asked in faux concern before thrusting his clothed cock directly to your heat. And by heavens, a moan escaped you. “Or is it not enough?”

“F-fuck, Namjoon- please!” you gasped as his hand pinched your nipple over your bra. His lips hovered over yours, so impossibly close that you knew one wrong movement was enough to make yours touched his. His cock was brutal as he humped you.

“Don’t you feel safe with the desires you are feeling?” he whispered directly to your ear, his hot breath leaving tingles down your spine. “Don’t you feel safe with just one cock? Do you want me to call the six of them? I bet they’d be happy to make you come. I know Yoongi does.”

“S-stop!”

He chuckled, his thrust stopping altogether. “Little one, you’re free. You can push me anytime you want. But you don’t want to, do you?”

It was only when he pointed it out that you realized he was no longer holding you down. In fact, he hadn’t for a while. You were too drunk with the sinful desire and his primal need to be with you that you didn’t notice that you had the choice to push him away.

And the horrifying realization that you deliberately didn’t want him to stop came crashing in.

“Don’t you just want to give in? I promise…no one will know. It’s just the two of us,” he whispered seductively, his breath warm against your skin. The way his words wrapped around you felt almost hypnotic, stirring something deep within. “Turn that mind off, darling. You’re so fucking wet,” he growled sensually. “I can feel your wetness in my thighs. You deserve this, little one. You deserve to be worship. All you need to do is to move.”

Your heart raced at the intensity of his gaze, each word wrapping around you like a vice. There was a part of you that yearned to give in, to surrender to the pull between you.

And you did.

Your hips lifted slightly to meet his, and it was all he needed before he rutted on you, the control he had snapped like a twig when you took the first step. You could feel you were getting close, his movements were all unforgiving and sensual.

“See?” he growled, his voice low and intense, sending shivers down your spine. “I just want to take care of you, little love. We all just want to give you all you desire.” He stepped closer, the heat radiating off him like a tangible force, drawing you in. “I told you. You are safe with me. But you aren’t safe from your own desires.”

You could feel something hot, something with urgency. And it wasn’t long until you shuddered, you trashed with your back arched. And just like clockwork, Namjoon’s warm essence spurted out and onto his boxers.

“That’s it, little one. Good girl.”

And as he held your body in his arms that night, he lied awake with thoughts of how to keep you. You were so beautiful. And perfect for him. You were perfect for them. He was sure that all of his brothers were thinking of the same thing: how to keep you forever.

Day 4, morning

It didn’t come as a surprise when he woke up and found you gone, nor did it come as a surprise when you couldn’t meet his eyes when he came down early in the morning ready to leave for the mountains. Seokjin, ever the observant, noticed the tension between the two of you. Actually, it was more so from you as you tried your very best to stick with who you thought was the safest among the seven, Seokjin and Yoongi.

Seokjin, with his soft smile and easygoing charm, had managed to pull the wool over your eyes. How could you have known that Seokjin was a wolf in a sheep’s clothing while Yoongi was only patient until he wasn’t? How could you have known that they were truly far from who you thought they were?

The maknae line were already waiting by the door, talking animatedly among themselves as though all of you were just going to the mountains for a fun fieldtrip and not for the love potion cure.

It was Hoseok that broke the silence, “How was your sleep, little one?”

“G-good,” you stammered, your eyes lifting to meet the lead CEO’s gaze, only to find him already looking back at you with an intensity that made your heart race. You quickly looked down, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “L-let’s go? It’s quite a far drive.”

You swallowed hard, trying to shake off the knot of tension in your stomach. The closer you got to the mountains, the more real the journey felt, and the more daunting the implications of finding a cure. You turned to Namjoon, who stood nearby, arms crossed and expression unreadable. “Are we ready?”

It took him a moment to answer, as though weighing your question with care, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt too heavy for casual conversation. The air between you felt thick, charged with something unspoken, and the silence stretched on, longer than it should have. “Always ready,” he replied, though the weight of his gaze suggested he had more on his mind than just the drive ahead.

You sat quietly the whole journey. The feeling of freedom was so near, yet the implications of what happened the past three days weighed down on you. You knew things could never go back the way it was. You knew you had to leave your job and move someplace else. Despite the possibility of a cure, you knew that everything that transpired was far more complex that a simple remedy couldn’t fix.

You glanced around the van, taking in the familiar faces of the men who had turned your world upside down. This was probably one of the last times you’d be in their proximity, and that thought sent a shiver down your spine. You felt both relieved and terrified at the prospect.

It was as though Seokjin, the designated driver, could hear your thoughts. He glanced up into the rearview mirror and met your eyes, concern flickering in his expression. “You okay back there?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, an awareness of your internal struggle.

You offered a small smile, not quite reaching your eyes. “I’m good,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You looked down at the address your friend gave you. The mountains loomed in the distance; their imposing silhouettes framed by a clear blue sky. You could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze, a stark contrast to the tension that had built up during the drive.

Namjoon was off to the side, deep in conversation with an elderly man. You couldn’t help but catch snippets of their dialogue—words like “cure” and “love potion” floated through the air, drawing your attention. You watched as the man gestured toward a narrow, winding path leading deeper into the woods.

After a few moments, Namjoon turned back to you, a satisfied smile on his face. “We have to walk. The car cannot pass through,” he shared the information with the group.

You nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement. “How far is it?”

“Not too far, just a little hike,” he assured you, though his eyes held a glimmer of seriousness. “Are you ready?”

Taking a deep breath, you glanced at the rest of the group, who had gathered around. The maknae line looked eager, bouncing on their feet as if they were about to embark on a thrilling quest. Yoongi leaned against a tree, his expression contemplative, while Seokjin was busy checking the supplies they brought along.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. “Let’s do this.”

It was almost an hour into the hike, and your little group was nearing the top when you saw it. “That must be it,” Hoseok said, pointing excitedly at the small house perched on the summit. It looked quaint, surrounded by trees and flowers, with smoke curling from the chimney, hinting at warmth and life within. For a moment, the sight was serene—peaceful even. But there was something about it that made your skin prickle, a sense of wrongness you couldn’t quite shake. The beauty of it felt... too perfect. Like an illusion meant to distract. A narrow pathway led to a flight of stairs, and just as you felt a rush of exhilaration, a pained gasp broke the tranquility.

You turned around to see Jungkook wincing, his hand clutching his ankle. “Jungkook!” you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He was sitting on the ground, his face contorted in pain, his doe eyes looking up at you as though he was asking for help. Beside him, Jimin crouched down, his innocent-looking face betraying none of the tension in the air. He looked concerned, but there was something about the calmness in his expression that made you pause—something about the way he was sitting too still, too perfectly for the situation at hand. How he hurt himself when the path was no longer steep like before, nor was the ground slippery was lost on you. You foolishly thought that you were out of the danger zone.

"Jungkook!" you repeated, kneeling beside him, your voice trembling with concern. "What happened?”

“I think I twisted it,” he admitted, his voice strained. “It hurts so bad, noona. P-please stay with me.”

You blinked at his request, your heart aching at the sight of him so vulnerable, but a wave of doubt swept over you. You had to make a decision, and fast. The cure was still ahead of you, and the house at the summit was growing nearer with every step you’d taken. But now, Jungkook was down, and his injury looked serious.

You glanced around, unsure what to do. You could stay with him, of course, but you weren’t the only one in the group, and there were others who might be able to help him. Maybe someone else should stay with him while you continued on to the house? Just as you were about to ask Taehyung, Namjoon stepped near you and interrupted your thoughts.

“Stay with Jungkook,” Namjoon urged you, glancing back at the house. “We can take care of the cure. Don’t worry.”

You hesitated, torn between the urgency of reaching the house and your concern for Jungkook. His face was twisted in pain, and you felt a pang of guilt for even considering leaving him. But the reassuring nod from Seokjin was enough to convince you that the men could handle the cure without you.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice steadying. “I’ll stay here with Jungkook.”

As you knelt beside him, your focus solely on his ankle, you completely missed the meaningful look shared between Taehyung and Yoongi, a silent conversation that hinted at something more.

“Just take a deep breath, Jungkook,” you said, gently placing a hand on his knee. “Let’s see if we can wrap this up.”

The six men trudged up the pathway leading to the small house in companiable silence when Seokjin suddenly stopped, halting the progress of the six men following him. They were almost near the house that his sudden pause caused confusion to the maknae line. It was a moment before he turned to face the group.

“Hyung?” Jimin asked, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Seokjin and Yoongi shared a meaningful look, their jaws set in stone and expression serious. “Taehyung and Jimin, I think you should stay guard here,” he said, his voice low and firm.

“Hyung, what if you need us there-”

Namjoon, who was quick to notice the peculiar seriousness in their eldest placed a reassuring hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and faced him. He flashed him a dimpled smile as though assuring him that everything was fine. “I think what hyung means is that this way, you can look out for little one and Jungkook.”

He tilted his head slightly, catching sight of you and Jungkook, a little ways down the path, peering curiously at the house.

“Don’t worry, we can handle this,” Hoseok assured the two age-mate with his charm. He gave a playful nudge to Taehyung as he stepped past them, confidence radiating from his every move. “Just keep an eye out, okay?”

With that, Hoseok entered the house, the door creaking softly behind him. The rest of the older members followed, leaving the maknae line standing in the fading light.

You didn’t have to wait long before the six of them descended the path, their expressions were mixed of triumph and satisfaction, and something that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It wasn’t even that long when the six of them walked down to you. Yoongi led the way, a confident stride in his step, and in his hand was a small bottle filled with a shimmering pink liquid.

Your heart raced as you caught sight of it. “Is that—?”

“It’s the cure, little one,” he confirmed, holding it up to the light. The liquid sparkled, catching the sun in a way that made it almost mesmerizing, almost tantalizing, almost too hypnotic that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

You felt your heart leap in your chest. The weight of the world seemed to lift off your shoulders, and a wave of disbelief rushed through you. You could barely comprehend it, but there it was. “We’re free…” you said with disbelief in your tone. You were too happy that you jumped up and hugged Jungkook. “I cannot believe it!”

“Well, almost, little one,” Namjoon said, his expression shifting to something more serious. “We’ll take it at home where we can safely observe the effects. We can’t risk anything happening here.”

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. For a moment, the excitement faltered, and a small knot of worry tugged at your stomach. You had been so caught up in the euphoria of it all that you hadn’t stopped to consider the reality of it. There were still risks, still unknowns.

“Aren’t you just a little too excited about leaving us, little one?” His words were offhanded, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

Your eyes darted to him, surprised by the sudden comment. Jimin’s gaze was still fixed on his nails, as though the conversation were of no consequence to him. But there was a subtle tension around him, something in his posture that didn’t quite sit right.

Instead of dwelling too much in what he was enunciating, you decided to face Namjoon. “Right, of course,” you said, stepping back from Jungkook and if you noticed the reluctant way he let go of you, you didn’t mention. You rationalized that they were still under the influence of the potion. You just had to hold on a little bit more.

Seokjin clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Then let’s get moving! The sooner we’re back, the sooner we can celebrate properly.”

The ride back to the civilization was filled with different vibes, it was quiet yet there was a profound peace within the group. This time, it was Jungkook who was driving while Taehyung was in the front seat with him. Seated next to you was Yoongi who was quietly contented in engulfing your hand in his, both your hands resting on his thighs. On your other side was Hoseok who was uncharacteristically quiet until he caught you looking at him.

“J-Jin, this is a lot,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you took in the lavish spread laid out on the table. Plates piled high with vibrant dishes, each one more mouthwatering than the last, sparkled under the soft glow of the lights. It was hard to believe he had managed to prepare all this while looking like he just stepped off a magazine cover.

“I want to celebrate us,” Jin replied, his smile warm and genuine.

You blinked owlishly, caught off guard. Us? What did he mean by that?

“You know, how we…survived this.” His eyes sparkled with sincerity, but confusion washed over you. You opened your mouth to ask him to elaborate, to clarify what “us” really meant, when suddenly, Taehyung appeared beside you. He leaned in so close that his lips almost brushed your ear, his voice teasingly conspiratorial.

“Hyung is so dramatic. He wants to do a big toast before drinking the cure.”

You missed the look the two men shared over your head when Jimin walked in and tugged you to sit next to him and Yoongi. “Come on, little one. I’m starving.”

One by one, the four other men took their seats around the beautifully set table. Directly across from you was Taehyung who was watching you intently, and beside him were Hoseok and Jungkook. On the other end of the table was Namjoon, manspreading like a king sitting in his throne. Seokjin moved gracefully around the table, setting down seven glasses that glinted like jewels, each filled with the pink liquid of the cure slushing around with every step. Your breath caught slightly as he approached, and when he stopped behind you, leaning down close, a shiver ran through you.

“And of course, for the lady. Only the best of wines,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You turned slightly, catching a glimpse of his serious and dark expression before he straightened, and just like that, he transformed it into a sweet smile that lit up the room. You wondered if it was just the light playing tricks on you.

“Hyung, ready for the toast?” Jungkook asked, his eyes on you even as he directed his question to Namjoon.

“I think it should be our little one that we ask,” Yoongi spoke for the first time that night, his tone unexpectedly serious. He turned to you, his eyes piercing through the moment, as if trying to read your thoughts. “Are you ready for what comes next?”

You felt a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of excitement and anxiety churning inside you. “Are you ready… for the rest of your life, love?” Taehyung voiced, his expression uncharacteristically solemn as he toyed with his glass, tracing the rim with his fingertip.

You blinked owlishly, wondering why there were too many questions from them as though they were asking something else. But they weren’t, right? They weren’t implying anything more, were they?

You wanted your old life back.

You wanted your freedom back.

With a steadying breath, you raised your glass of wine, a quiet resolve settling over you. “To our freedom,” you declared, your voice clear despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Namjoon smirked, a fondness in his eyes as he confidently raised his glass in response. “To you, little one.”

“To us,” Seokjin added, his voice warm as he joined the toast, and one by one, the others followed suit.

You all drank to the last sip of your drinks, the sweet, fruity flavor of the wine lingering on your tongue. Seokjin’s gaze remained fixed on you, his watchful eyes never leaving your face as he set down his empty glass. There was an intensity in his stare, an unspoken question hanging in the air, as if he were waiting for something to unfold.

And he waited.

And waited.

Until it happened.

You felt the warmth of the wine spreading through your body, a comforting buzz that made everything feel lighter, more vibrant. But in the back of your mind, there was a nagging sensation, a whisper that something wasn’t quite right. The room began to tilt slightly, chatter of the CEOs was fading into a soft murmur. “S-something’s not right,” you whispered, turning to your ever dependable Yoongi, the one who never put you down.

Your hand was clutching his sleeves, yet he paid you no mind. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the liquid in you, and that nagging sensation began to twist in your gut. The wine—was it the wine? The warmth, the lightness, the almost too comfortable feeling that was settling into your bones—had it been too easy? Too perfect?

“W- what was in t-that w-wine?” You asked shakily, barely a whisper, your eyes finding Seokjin’s apathetic ones.

He waited.

“Seokjin…” you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper, as the fear settled in your chest like a stone.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he simply stared at you, his expression unreadable as his fingers lightly drummed against the table, almost too casual, too relaxed.

The realization hit you like a gut punch: This wasn’t a celebration. This was a trap.

Your vision blurred, and you struggled to focus, the faces of Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon becoming indistinct. Slowly, your world faded to black.

The seven men watched you as Yoongi wrapped his arm around you, securing your head to his shoulder as though he didn’t do anything.

“Why… why would you do that, hyung?” Jungkook asked, his voice a mix of confusion and disbelief, eyes wide with shock as he processed the scene.

Yoongi remained focused on you, his other hand gently caressing your face, a gesture of comfort that felt surreal. It was Seokjin, however, who broke the silence, his voice calm and measured as he quietly sliced his food. “She was going to leave us.”

Taehyung’s shock morphed into something deeper, worry etching lines on his forehead as he glanced between the two of them. “We can’t just keep her here!”

“She belongs with us,” Seokjin replied softly, an edge of finality in his tone as he continued to slice his food, unbothered by the tension brewing around him.

“But there is a cure—” Jungkook started, his voice rising in protest.

“There is no cure, Jungkook,” Namjoon interjected smoothly, his form relaxed as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass like a tempest. “There’s no cure because we aren’t sick.”

“The hyungs are right, Kookie,” Jimin said, his expression softening as he held your hand close to his face, as if trying to draw strength from your presence. “We just love her so much.”

“And now, she’ll love us too just as much,” Hoseok smirked, his gaze darting to the wine you had drunk.

A phone beeping continuously rose Seokjin from his slumber. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down to find you snuggled peacefully in his arms, your face nestled against his chest. On your other side, Jimin had draped his leg over you, a content smile gracing his lips in his sleep. It was only four in the morning, yet the incessant beeping of your phone pierced the quiet.

You must have been too exhausted to not notice, he noted. Of course, why wouldn’t you be when the seven men showed you just how much they loved you. And this time, you were only too enthusiastic to show them how much you adored them. With a sigh, he reached for your phone and opened your messages, curiosity piquing as he scrolled through the frantic texts.

You have to get out of there, Y/N. The effect of the love potion only lasts for 60 hours!

Y/N, honey, I’m fucking serious. The potion won’t even be effective if they have no feelings for you.

These men are insane. They know you before this, Y/N. You’re in danger there!

Where are you?

Seokjin scoffed, irritation bubbling up within him. He glanced down at your serene expression, blissfully unaware of the turmoil outside this moment. With a few quick taps, he deleted the messages, each one disappearing like smoke. You didn’t need to know.

It didn’t matter how you got here because you were here now.

And they would never, ever let you leave. As you nestled deeper into his side, he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, determination flaring within him. They would make you see that this was where you belonged, that you were one of them now. There would be no turning back.

More so now that they had access to that love potion. With just a few drops, they could weave the very fabric of your feelings, ensuring you remained anchored to them. They tasted heaven with you. What fool would let that go?

END

[pickingupmymercedes]

What these arms can do - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities.

Wrap it before you tap it guys

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Lewis and his biceps. That's it, really. Heavily inspired by this Video , Zegna's work this GP with his Sunday outfit and Arms. Hope you guys have fun reading this as much as I had fun writing it. ❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

Y/n stepped quietly into Lewis's home gym in the morning, the familiar hum of his playlist and the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

Her eyes immediately found him, standing in front of the mirror with a determined look on his face as he curled a set of weights. She couldn't help but get lost on the way his biceps flexed, the veins popping out against his skin, the dark ink on his skin glowing under the lights.

She leaned against the doorway, her gaze lingering on him.

It never ceased to stir something inside her, admiration of course, but also a desire that she would often find hard to ignore.

There was something mesmerizing about watching him, his movements, how he got so into the routine he zooned out of world, the sheer power he held in his muscles, but specially his arms.

They took the brunt of his work but they were also her sanctuary, her personal safe haven in so many moments.

Like when she had fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted after a long flight, and she had woken up to the warmth of Lewis's body next to hers, his arms wrapped protectively around her. His biceps had turned into her pillow. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft rhythm of his breathing. She had nestled deeper into his embrace, feeling completely at peace.

Or when they were at the park, and Lewis finally put Roscoe down after carrying him everywhere. She had teased him, laughing at how the bulldog seemed to enjoy being cradled. "You carry him like a baby" she had joked, her laughter light and infectious. In response, Lewis had scooped her up into his arms, making her squeal in surprise mid Hyde Park. Holding her securely, he had looked into her eyes and said "I only hold those I love."

And finally, when they were making their way through a crowd, and she felt a bit overwhelmed by the noise and the people pressing in around them. Lewis had been by her side, his arm firmly around her lower back, guiding her through the throng. She could feel the strength of his biceps against her back, his ever-reassuring presence. As the mob grew larger, he had gently moved her to walk behind him and the bodyguards, his arms still around her, one of her hands clasped in his, the other resting on his biceps.

"Enjoying the view?" Lewis's teasing voice pulled her out of her own mind. Y/n blinked, her eyes snapping back to the present.

She realized she had been staring at him, lost in her memories. He was standing right in front of her, a playful smirk on his lips, his eyes focused intently on hers.

Caught off guard, she felt a soft smile rise to her cheeks. "Just... thinking" she replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But the way he was looking at her, his gaze dropping to her lips, made her heart race.

She smirked back at him, closing the distance between them. Without another word, she leaned in and kissed him, feeling the familiar safety and love in his embrace once more.

When they finally broke the kiss, Lewis's eyes were filled with curiosity. "What were you thinking about?" he asked.

She bit her lip, a playful glint in her eyes. "About how your arms make me feel safe," she said with a flirty tone.

Lewis chuckled wrapping her in his embrace once again, raising an eyebrow. "So, I'm your personal bodyguard now?"

"Among other things," she teased, tracing her fingers along the muscles of his arm, glistening with a light layer of sweat.

He grunted in response, a deep, satisfied sound, and then effortlessly picked her up, setting her on one of the gym benches. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her skin. "What exactly triggered those memories?" he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck and collarbones.

"Your biceps," she whispered sassily, her voice trembling slightly. "Your forearms, your veins..." Her words trailed off as he started to undress her upper body, his kisses growing more insistent.

Y/n's fingers gripped at his arms, feeling the tension and power beneath his skin. Each time she tried to reach for him, his biceps held her back. "Let's focus on you for now, love. And what these arms can do to you." he whispered, his voice thick.

Piece by piece, he undressed her, his touch gentle but commanding.

When he had stripped her to just her bra and panties, his fingers traced the lace fabric, teasing her. She held onto his arms, the sensation of his muscles under her fingers grounding her.

Lewis's pupils grew dilated as he continued to explore her body. "I love how you look at me," he murmured against her skin, his lips trailing down her collarbone. Y/n's breath hitched, her body responding to his every word.

Y/n's breath quickened as Lewis's touch became more insistent, tracing the delicate lace of her panties, teasing her with feather-light touches before pulling it off her legs.

His lips followed, pressing soft kisses along her collarbone, his breath warm and tantalizing against her skin. The contrast between his gentle caresses and his gaze made her pulse race.

He moved lower, his kisses trailing down her stomach. Y/n's fingers kept clenched around his biceps, the strength in his arms keeping her grounded.

Lewis's mouth hovered over her clit, blowing gently, the cool air making her hips buck in response. He smiled against her skin at the response of her body, his tongue darting out to give her a light, teasing lick.

Y/n moaned, her grip tightening. He took his time, alternating between soft, languid licks and quick, playful flicks of his tongue, driving her to the edge only to slow down.

When he finally began to lap at her clit with more intensity, his other hand slid down to tease her entrance. The combination of his mouth and fingers had her writhing, her back arching off the bench as she neared her release.

And just as she was about to orgasm, he stopped, pulling back with a wicked grin.

"Not yet," he murmured, his voice a deep, seductive rumble.

Desperate for release, Y/n tried to reach for him, her hand slipping under the waistband of his gym shorts. But Lewis was quick, his hands moved to her neck, applying just enough pressure to stop her.

The slight constriction had her body respond to his dominance and surrender to his movements.

With one hand maintaining the gentle pressure on her neck, Lewis inserted a finger into her, the sensation making her gasp.

He moved slowly at first, letting her adjust, then added a second finger when he felt her walls relaxing, then a third, each one stretching her further.

His movements picked up speed, his fingers curling inside her, looking for the perfect spot until she spasmed and her breath hitched. His smile growing wickedly as he kept the pressure and angle, over and over.

Y/n's eyes locked with Lewis's, the intensity of his gaze holding her captive. "Do you like that, love?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yeah" she breathed, her voice trembling with desire. "So much."

Lewis's grin widened further, his fingers moving faster. "Good. I want you to feel everything."

Her body responded to his every touch, her hips moving in rhythm with his fingers. The pleasure kept on building, each stroke of his fingers dragging gasps out of her.

She could feel herself getting closer, the pressure building inside her almost unbearable.

"Look at me" Lewis commanded softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I want to see you when you come."

Y/n's eyes refocused on his gaze. The intensity in his eyes, the love and desire, made her heart race even faster.

"Lewis," she gasped, her body trembling.

"That's it, love," he murmured, his hand now positioned higher so his palm brushed over her clit while his fingers continued their relentless pace. "Let go for me."

Her climax hit her hard, her body arching off the bench as she cried out his name and her nails dug into his forearm still on her neck.

Her walls clenched around his fingers. But Lewis didn't stop, his fingers continuing now with up and down movements, drawing out every last bit of her high.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

"I need you." she managed to say between breaths.

His eyes darkened with desire at her words. "Patience, love," he said, his fingers still moving inside her. "We’re not done here just yet"

Just as she felt another wave of pleasure building, Lewis's phone rang, breaking the moment. He groaned in frustration but didn't stop his movements immediately, trying to ignore the insistent ringing.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, reluctantly pulling his fingers out of her and reaching for his phone. "Hold on a second, love."

Y/n watched him, her breathing still humming with the remnants of her orgasm. She could see the frustration on his face as he answered the call. "Yeah?" he snapped, clearly annoyed.

There was a brief pause as he listened to the person on the other end. "Now? Really?" He glanced at Y/n, a mix of regret and frustration in his eyes. "Fine, send me the link"

He hung up, exhaling sharply. "They need me in a meeting" he said, his voice tinged with frustration as he bent down to kiss her "But I'll be back in 20, I promise."

Y/n pouted playfully, reaching for the fingers that had been inside her just moments before. She took his middle digit into her mouth, sucking on it slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "You better be." she said, her voice sultry.

Lewis's eyes darkened back again, his dick very evident through his shorts and pressing against her thigh as he helped her up from the bench. He kissed her deeply, his hand possessively cradling the back of her head. The kiss lingered, both of them reluctant to break the contact.

"I don't want to go," he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with desire.

"But you have to" she replied softly, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "Just don't take too long."

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. "Wait for me" he vowed.

Y/n nodded, her fingers tracing the outline of his muscles one last time. "I always do".

Lewis kissed her again, this time quicker, before finally stepping back. "I love you," he said, his eyes locked on hers.

"I love you" she replied, watching him as he reluctantly left the room.

The door closed behind him, and Y/n sighed, her body still thrumming with the desire he had ignited. She knew he would be back soon, and so would the safety she felt even when completely surrendered to his embrace.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123 @strqirlhrts

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[tender-rosiey]

a star — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: lovesick gojo does smth to me

it’s not often that you don’t find your husband on the jujutsu grounds terrorizing some students, save for today that is. however, it doesn’t pose that much of a problem to you. in the end, he is your husband and you should know him more than anyone else.

so you pride yourself in the fact that you quickly spot his figure on top of one of the buildings. you swiftly make your way up. your shoes click on the roof as you walk towards your husband, “hey ‘toru.”

“hey,” he smiles while you sit beside him and get yourself comfortable. his face turns towards you with a little tilt of his head, “why’re you here, wifey?”

“why’re you here?”

“fair point,” he sighs blissfully, “reminiscing.”

you hum quietly and your hand moves slowly to hold his own. your thumb slowly rub his hands. he chuckles at your concern before pulling your hand to his lips, pressing a firm kiss, “don’t worry; I am not sad.”

he takes a deep breath, “it’s just nice to remember these fun moments every once in a while.”

you nod quietly before looking in front of you, the view captivating you even if you have seen it a million times. tokyo was always a sight to behold from such heights, especially in the night. you close your eyes for a moment, taking it all in.

“yuuji is getting stronger.”

you perk up at your husband’s comment then you murmur, “yeah.”

“so is megumi, but he just has to adjust his way of thinking.”

you smile, “good thing he has you to do that then.”

he throws his head back in laughter, “I am his teacher, after all.”

“everyone tends to forget that,” you tease and he rolls his eyes, “all mighty silly teacher.”

with a tsk, he raises his index finger, sporting a smug grin, “didn’t you know that women like their men dumb?”

“I don’t know if all women do that,” you hum before resting your head on his shoulder, “I sure do, though.”

his hand slips around your waist, and he gasps, “are you flirting with me? I will have you know that I have the prettiest woman ever as my wife.”

“she’s a lucky one.”

he frowns then pouts, lips jutting out and everything, “she sure doesn’t think so.” poking your side, he huffs, “she’s always so mean to me, the epitome of bullying even.”

you giggle swatting his hand away, “you probably deserve it.”

“you’re just like her,” he whines. you giggle and he slowly rubs your side after he lets out a grumble. you let out a soft breath and your hand moves to hold his own. his hand squeezes yours and you squeeze it in return.

the atmosphere is filled with the sound of the soft breeze and crickets’ noises. you’re both left to relish in the silence and the comfort it gives. you’re both looking up at the sky. your gaze trails to the trees on the ground that sway with the wind.

you see the tree where shoko was healing haibara that one time. you see the vending machine that satoru and suguru always hit. you see the bench that nanami always used to sit on. you see the cabin that you and satoru used to hide in to escape from yaga.

you finally understand why your husband chooses this place.

he gets to truly see it all because despite his six eyes’ powers and capabilities, it doesn’t let him see what he truly cares about: friends and memories. from here, he is able to be the spectator that relishes in memories that passed, but will always live in the minds of those who experienced it.

even if, sometimes, only one of the two remains.

feeling your throat tighten at the melancholy thoughts, you take a breath. you take a moment then you inquire, breaking the silence in hopes of distracting yourself, “sooo, what are you watching?”

“a star,” he answers simply.

you furrow your eyebrows, focusing on the dark blue canvas above you, “‘toru, there are no stars tonight.”

he breathes out a chuckle, “I know. I said a star not stars.”

you narrow your eyes, “what do you mean?—“

and then your eyes lock with his own. he is staring intently at you, almost memorizing your features with a lovesick smile on his face. 

you don’t know when did he take his blindfold off, but you’re met with his azure eyes that have love and adoration swimming in them, shades of blue mixing in with the invisible shades of love.

you see your reflection in his eyes and others could swear they see hearts surrounding your figure. his eyes are now a canvas for what he wholeheartedly believes to be the love of his life.

the small soft quirk of his lips is noticeable. the light crinkle of his eyes as he gazes at you gives away how he feels. his entire face is glowing as it faces your own. his hand reaches to hold your face and he grins.

“my star.”

.

.

.

“satoru, that was so cheesy!”

“you love it.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported