#Floor solo career

[a-silent-symphony]

Floor Jansen by © Laura Zalenga

[the-save-place-art]

Floor Jansen talking about her debut solo album, self - knowing and happiness on FaceCulture interview.

[seiwas]

you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu

wc: 2.9k

summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this—in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".

contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.

a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

“Bab—”

Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened. 

You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.

He stares. 

That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower. 

His lip trembles, eyes watery.

“Not now, Atsumu.”

You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least. 

The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking. 

“Atsumu,” your voice rings. 

Who the hell is “Atsumu”? 

He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”

Anything but “Atsumu.”

When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor. 

It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do. 

You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team. 

Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you. 

Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too? 

As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling  or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving. 

And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.

You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.

But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line. 

“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?” 

He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.

What he’d give to be able to do that right now. 

“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.” 

When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—

“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?” 

—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company. 

There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you. 

“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.” 

He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side. 

“Baby, I—”

He passes it back.

You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this–you–up?

You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?” 

He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.

“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.” 

You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike. 

“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.” 

You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug. 

“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—” 

“Can I really believe you next time?”

You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him. 

Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea. 

You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.

It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.

The ball lands on his side of the court. 

And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.

“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds). 

Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to. 

And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space. 

He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.

The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out. 

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse. 

You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body. 

He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to. 

It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty. 

He doesn’t want to be away from you. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you. 

He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss. 

The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around. 

.

.

.

The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—

He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home. 

Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too. 

His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it. 

Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you? 

He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it. 

That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door. 

. 

.

.

Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there. 

And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits. 

Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not. 

He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance. 

His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.

Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink. 

You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table. 

He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody. 

It makes his chest hurt. 

Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?” 

(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed. 

It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.

Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.) 

He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―

“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady. 

Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―

(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.

Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)

―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―” 

“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not. 

(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.) 

But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―” 

“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up. 

“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”

(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)

“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.” 

He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—” 

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.” 

Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest. 

He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly. 

“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.” 

“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.” 

“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.

You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you. 

“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink. 

You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.” 

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car. 

. 

.

.

(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.) 

a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long 😭 i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺

thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[harryssyndrome]

Best Brother Ever | h.s

Pairing: Husband!Dad!Harry x Wife!Mom!Reader

summary: a sweet Sunday afternoon with the styles family and Alex being the best big brother.

Word count: 2.6k || MASTERLIST 𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧

I got really inspired by a cute reel I saw on Facebook and since then this sweet fluff has been sitting in my drafts for months and I’m really happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do ♡ let me know your thoughts in comments! Like & reblog are truly appreciated 🥰 REQUEST ARE OPEN.

It was a peaceful Sunday morning in the Styles household, and the cozy, familiar sounds of home filled the air. In the kitchen, YN moved around with practiced ease, stirring a pot, chopping vegetables, and tasting spices with a focused concentration. She’d been at it for a while now, determined to make Harry’s mom, Anne, feel right at home with her favorite dish. In the background, 18 by One Direction played softly, and YN found herself humming along, her voice a gentle echo to the lyrics.

Though the band had gone on indefinite hiatus years ago, and each of the boys had branched off into their own solo careers, YN hadn’t stopped listening. She was a Directioner through and through, and she knew in her heart she’d never let go of those songs—they were part of her story, her history with Harry, and her dreams.

Meanwhile, in the living room, their six-year-old son, Alex, was lying on the mat with Berry, their playful family dog, gently scratching behind Berry’s ears. Berry’s tail thumped in delight, and Alex giggled as the dog rolled over, waiting for belly rubs. The two were inseparable, each one the other’s partner in mischief.

After a few minutes, Alex felt a tickle of thirst, and with his usual burst of energy, Alex stopped scratching and said, “Oh Berry didn’t you get tired of all the scratching? I know, I know you were enjoying it but it’s time for a break, I’m thirsty. You don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! Granny likes it when you’re a good boy.” He then sprang up and ran to the kitchen, tiny footsteps echoing across the hardwood floor.

“Alex, no running in the kitchen, remember?” YN gently reminded him, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.

Alex skidded to a stop, giving her an innocent look. “Sorry, Mama.” He then carefully walked to the fridge, his small hand reaching for a water bottle. After unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip, he paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

Looking up at his mom, he noticed how she’d been working by the stove for a while. The warmth from the flames made the kitchen a bit stuffy, and in that moment, his little mind put two and two together. Carefully holding out the bottle to her, he asked, “Mama, do you want some water too?”

YN paused, touched by the thoughtful gesture. The little boy was caring just like his father. Her heart swelled with pride and warmth at her son’s understanding, and she leaned down to pull his cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Alex beamed up at her, delighted by her kiss, and handed her the bottle with a shy smile. YN took a small sip, her heart feeling full in the best way possible. Moments like these, simple and unassuming, were what made her life feel so complete.

YN glanced around the kitchen, realizing she hadn’t seen Harry in a while. She turned to Alex, who was still grinning from her earlier kiss, and asked, “Where’s your daddy?”

Alex paused, looking thoughtful. “He’s giving Amelia a bath!” he replied brightly.

YN chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel. “Don’t you think he’s taking a little too long?”

Without another word, Alex took off down the hall, announcing over his shoulder, “I’m gonna check!”

YN shook her head, smiling to herself as she continued stirring the pot. But barely a minute later, she heard Alex’s laughter ring out, loud and delighted, carrying all the way back to the kitchen. Curious, she wiped her hands and followed the sound down the hallway, wondering what on earth could have him so amused.

When she reached the bathroom, she found Alex standing at the doorframe, giggling uncontrollably. YN peeked over his shoulder, and the sight before her was too good not to laugh herself.

Harry stood by the sink, almost drenched, his shirt soaked and clinging to him, while his hair, wet and messy, hung down in front of his eyes. Amelia, their 15-month-old daughter, squirmed in his arms, wrapped in a fluffy towel that he was struggling to keep around her tiny, wiggling frame. Amelia, completely entertained, let out a series of squeals and giggles, delighted by the whole chaotic scene.

Harry looked up, his eyes meeting YN’s as he tried—and failed—to blow a strand of wet hair out of his face. “She’s, uh… a slippery one,” he said with a helpless smile, shifting Amelia as she kicked her tiny feet, clearly thrilled by all the attention.

YN chuckled, stepping into the bathroom to take over. “I think you’ve gotten just as much of a bath as she has,” she teased, reaching for Amelia.

“Believe me, I know,” Harry replied, surrendering his squirming daughter into YN’s arms. As soon as she was safely in her mother’s embrace, Amelia nuzzled into YN, her little face lighting up with another round of happy giggles.

Alex, still laughing, tugged at Harry’s soaked shirt. “Daddy, you’re all wet!”

Harry ruffled Alex’s hair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Well, that’s what happens when you try to bathe a little mermaid,” he joked, winking at YN.

YN smiled, cradling Amelia close as the baby snuggled into her, finally calm. Glancing up at Harry, she added with a playful grin, “Maybe next time I’ll leave the bath duty to you again. You look like you’re having way too much fun.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Only if I get a raincoat next time.”

With everyone still giggling, the air filled with warmth and laughter. For YN, it was yet another reminder of how these simple, unplanned moments held the truest joy.

After drying Amelia’s soft curls and dressing her in an adorable denim overall dress, YN gave her a little pat, sending her off with Alex, who eagerly took her tiny hand. “Come on, Amelia! Let’s play in the backyard!” he declared, guiding her to the door as she toddled along, wide-eyed and giggling.

Meanwhile, Harry changed out of his soaked clothes and slipped into a comfortable hoodie and shorts. Feeling refreshed, he wandered back to the kitchen to find YN putting the finishing touches on lunch. She was focused, stirring one last pot, her face glowing with that contented look he loved.

“Smells amazing,” he murmured, slipping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into him, smiling as she gave the pot one final stir.

“Thank you,” she replied, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. “I wanted everything to be perfect for your mom.”

Harry pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “It already is perfect. Besides, Mom’s really coming to see you and the kids. I’m just… here for decoration,” he joked, earning a laugh from YN.

She turned to face him, resting her hands on his chest. “Pretty good decoration, I’d say,” she teased back, her eyes sparkling. “Can’t say I mind having you around.”

He grinned, taking her hand in his. “And I can’t say I mind this whole thing… you, me, the kids, Sunday lunches. I think we’re doing alright, don’t you?”

YN’s smile softened, her heart warmed by his words. “I’d say we’re doing better than alright.”

When lunch was ready, they carried everything to the living room and settled comfortably on the sofa, filling their plates and savoring each other’s company in the cozy quiet. Berry, their loyal dog, lay stretched out on the floor nearby, watching them with sleepy eyes, as though content to be part of their little family moment. But the peace didn’t last long; as soon as Berry heard the sound of laughter from the backyard, he was on his feet and bounding toward the door, ready to join Alex and Amelia in whatever adventure they were up to.

Harry and YN shared a glance, amused, and Harry sighed with a laugh. “Should we go see what they’re getting into out there?”

YN nodded, grinning. “Definitely.”

Hand in hand, they headed toward the backyard porch deck, hearts full and laughter on their lips, ready to join in on the joy of the afternoon.

Harry and YN strolled out into the backyard, enjoying the sight of Alex and Berry playing an enthusiastic game of chase. Alex was giggling as he kicked the ball across the grass, Berry hot on his heels, barking and wagging his tail, clearly in his element.

But their attention quickly turned to little Amelia, who was standing by the swing set, her tiny fingers gripping the seat as she attempted to climb up. She’d tugged it down a few times, her determination evident in her scrunched-up face, but every time she tried to lift her legs, they just didn’t reach. She let out a tiny, frustrated squeal, her cheeks pink with effort.

Alex spotted her from across the yard and immediately abandoned his ball game, trotting over with Berry following close behind. “I’m coming, Amy! I’ll help you,” he declared, a serious expression crossing his little face. The way he spoke, it was as if he were preparing to climb a mountain, not help his baby sister onto a swing.

He placed a comforting hand on Amelia’s shoulder, patting her gently. “Don’t worry, Amy. I’ll get you up there,” he reassured her. Berry sat down nearby, tilting his head as if watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Alex held the swing steady, lowering it slightly to make it easier for her to grab. Amelia gave it her best shot, tugging herself forward and then clinging to her brother’s back, her small legs kicking as she tried to hoist herself up. But she kept slipping back down with a tiny thud, her face scrunched in concentration.

Seeing her struggle, Alex crouched down thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one finger like he’d seen his dad do when he was deep in thought. “Okay, hm… maybe try to use my back like a lil’ stool?” he offered, glancing up at her with a hopeful smile. “I’ll be like a step!”

Amelia’s eyes lit up, and she gave him an excited nod, as if this was the most brilliant plan she’d ever heard. Alex crouched down in front of the swing, bracing himself. “Alright, Amy, climb on!” he called out, his voice full of determination.

With a delighted giggle, Amelia leaned onto her brother’s back and clutched his T-shirt with her chubby little hands. She climbed as best as she could, trying to pull herself up—but her grip on his shirt only tightened as she clambered, her arms slipping around his neck. Alex winced, his voice coming out in a slightly strained laugh. “Amy… you’re kinda… choking me,” he gasped, though he kept steady, determined to help her however he could.

Harry and YN watched from nearby, biting back their laughter as Alex tried to be the perfect big brother, his determination and care making them both melt a little inside. Berry, still sitting close by, tilted his head again, ears perked as he followed every bit of the action.

Eventually, Alex, catching his breath, stood up, looking down at his sister with a thoughtful frown. “Alright, Amy, let’s try it another way,” he said, more determined than ever to help her reach her goal.

He pointed at the swing seat with a very serious expression, bending down to her level. “Just try to sit on it. Right here,” he said, gesturing to the exact spot where she should aim. “Watch, I’ll show you.”

With exaggerated care, he climbed onto the swing himself, wiggling around on the seat to demonstrate how to sit properly. Then he hopped off and held the swing firmly in place again, giving her an encouraging nod. “Okay, now you try.”

Amelia looked at him, wide-eyed with admiration for her big brother, and then turned back to the swing. She grasped it carefully with both hands, her face full of concentration, and this time, after a few wobbly attempts, she managed to pull herself up, finally plopping down on the seat with a triumphant squeal.

Alex’s face broke into a huge grin. “You did it, Amy!” he cheered, clapping his hands. “You’re a big girl now!”

Amelia giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and Alex gave the swing a gentle push, sending her gliding back and forth, her delighted squeals filling the backyard. Each time she swung forward, she let out a little giggle, her laughter filling the air.

Harry and YN stood side by side, their arms wrapped around each other as they watched Alex carefully push Amelia on the swing. Her joyful squeals mixed with the gentle creak of the swing, and Alex’s steady encouragement filled the air. Berry trotted nearby, tail wagging, occasionally glancing up as if to make sure everything was under control.

Harry tightened his arm around YN’s shoulders, pulling her close as he shook his head in admiration. “He’s… he’s really the best big brother, isn’t he?” he said, his voice soft with awe. “Look at him—so gentle with her, so patient. I can’t believe he’s only six.”

YN beamed, her eyes fixed on their son as she watched him push Amelia with such care, his face serious with concentration, as if he were on an important mission. “I know,” she replied, her voice warm with pride. “He’s amazing with her, isn’t he? Always looking out for her, always so sweet. I feel like we’re really… doing something right.”

Harry looked down at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, I think you’re doing most of it right,” he teased, bumping her shoulder with his. “I’m just here to make sure they know how to make a mess and have fun.”

YN laughed, nudging him back. “Oh, please, Harry—you’re their hero. Every time you walk in, they light up. You’re like their personal superhero.”

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know about ‘superhero,’ but… seeing them like this, watching them take care of each other? That’s everything.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked back at Alex and Amelia. “They’re so lucky to have each other. And I think… we’re pretty lucky to have them, too.”

YN nodded, her heart swelling as she took in the scene—their two little ones, working together, supporting each other in their own innocent, unfiltered way. “It’s moments like these that make it all worth it, don’t they?” she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder. “All the late nights, all the messy meals and chaotic mornings… all of it. Seeing them happy, and kind, and just… them.”

Harry gave her a soft smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got a good thing going, don’t we?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t imagine a better team than this. You and me… and these two.” He gestured toward Alex and Amelia, his eyes crinkling with pride. “We’re doing something right, YNN. I know we are.”

Just then, Alex looked over his shoulder and spotted his parents watching. His face lit up with pride, and he called out, “Look, Mum! Dad! Amy’s swinging! I got her up here all by myself!”

YN and Harry exchanged a warm glance before waving back, beaming with pride. “You’re the best big brother, Alex!” YN called out, giving him a big thumbs-up. “Amy’s so lucky to have you.”

Alex’s cheeks flushed with pride, and he turned back to Amelia, giving her swing another gentle push. “Did you hear that, Amy? Mum and Dad said I’m the best big brother ever!” he whispered to her, smiling from ear to ear.

Watching him, Harry gave YN’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re raising some pretty great kids, aren’t we?” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with pride. “If nothing else, I’d say we’re getting that part just right.”

YN looked up at him, her eyes shining. “Couldn’t agree more.”

[sadiestarrs]

Cherry Red

Warnings: swearing, mean ellie, mentions of sex

A/N: i got this idea from another fic umm. it is proofread, but criticism is always accepted!! this one lowkey hurt. also i made edits to this fic but tumblr decided to glitch and delete them all so if this is bad, my apologies 🙏😞

Plot: ellie is a guitarist and the most popular in her group, but the attention has become too much, especially for you

Word count: 1115

Standing in between hundreds of screaming girls was not where you imagined yourself five years ago, especially not when you got with Ellie. Back then, she was practising guitar, doing small gigs at cafés and jazz bars late into the night. You attended everyone, that’s how you met her. Your friends had invited you on a night out, and she immediately caught your eye, playing one of your favourite songs.

From that day on, you’d showed up every night you were free and soon started to get noticed. One thing led to another, going on a few dates, sharing mutual friends, watching them create a band, and finally seeing them achieve their goals, a sold-out stadium. But now was when it set in. You were never claustrophobic, but your position made you think otherwise.

Bodies swarmed around yours, the screaming increasing when Ellie started her solo. You weren’t mad at how many people liked her, not at all – even though you were technically her first fan.

Something wasn’t right about this concert, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You felt it in your core. A strange, sickening feeling.

Your vision tried to steady on Ellie, who was focused on each chord and strum of her guitar. The guitar you bought her. Despite being a broke college student, you still wanted to show Ellie that you cared and believed in her career, so you bought her the same cherry red guitar she held in her hands at that moment.

It was as if she loved the guitar more than you, funnily enough. It hung on the wall above your shared bed. She would dust it regularly, making sure that the strings were tuned, only using it during concerts. When she practised, it would be her older guitar, the same one she used the night you met her.

Now as you watched her kill the solo, like she did every time, you waited for the end, the moment when she would find you in the crowd during the last chord, almost dedicating the song to you. But it didn’t happen. Her eyes scanned for someone else. Her hand reached for another girl.

Up on stage was someone you had seen before, long jet-black hair, dark eyeliner, ripped jeans and a crop top. Her ex. She had brought her ex on stage. The band knew about you, how could they let this happen? How could they–how could she embarrass you like that?

Her ex takes the guitar and begins her own riff, something they had definitely planned behind your back. Questions rampaged through your mind. You were at almost every practice and rehearsal. Were they meeting up separately? You choke up, watching the scene unfold in front of you.

Ellie whispers something in her ear, holding her by the waist as she nods in response. The crowd goes wild, screaming and cheering. It was meant to be you on stage. She was meant to hold you. Her ex takes the neck of the guitar, turning it upside down and smashing it into the floor.

You lose count of the number of times they pass it between them, causing more damage than the last. A strong urge to empty your guts washes over you, pushing through the crowd, not caring who gets elbowed in the face.

The dressing room is filled with buzzing from outside, but it’s 100% better than watching your girlfriend smash a prized possession you bought her. Every answer your mind came up with wasn’t good enough. It didn’t make sense. Why? Why? Why?

Why would she do that to you? Your relationship had been strained for a few days after an argument over rehearsals. You barely spent time together any more, she was always out practising, even missing the dates you had planned.

This started a conversation about whether she cared about her career more than the relationship. You didn’t want to believe it but all your worries seemed to come true. Her added fame and success made things more difficult.

The time when she gave a group of VIP fans a tour backstage and bonded a bit too much with one of them sparked through your brain. It reminded you of what was happening on stage before you left. And now the show was over.

✦

Her bandmates come into the room before her, filling the space with awkwardness when they see you. None of them speak, going through the motions of drinking water, packing away instruments, and checking their phones without so much as an apology.

All of them knew about this but didn’t feel the need to tell you. You blamed them as much as you blamed Ellie. To think that you were the reason they were in that position now. If it wasn’t for you bringing them together, another band would be in their place.

“So no one wanted to tell me what Ellie was planning?”

Your question is met with even more silence, everyone looking awkwardly between themselves.

“We didn’t know—”

The door is pushed, followed by Ellie, now smiling with her ex directly behind her. She senses the tension in the air and motions for the others to leave. The three of you stand in silence for an eternity before Ellie finally says, “I can tell that you’re mad.”

Mad? That was the biggest understatement. Her ex doesn’t make eye contact, still standing behind her, hands folded across her chest.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

Maybe it was harsh, but there was no other way to convey your emotions. “Can I explain myself before we start throwing insults around? It was a prank. That wasn't the actual guitar.”

From a supply closet, she brings out the case and unzips it to reveal the guitar, still in perfect condition. No thought formed properly in your mind. Nothing made sense. It was a sick prank, something that made you physically ill.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Ellie?”

“This conversation won't go anywhere if you keep insulting her.” She had the audacity to speak to you. This was her fault, not just Ellie’s. What sane person would do something like that?

“This conversation is between me and my girlfriend. You know what? You two can have each other.” You push past them, slamming the door in the process.

Why was this happening? Did you piss off God? Were you paying for a mistake you made years ago? Whatever it was, it didn't make sense. What went through Ellie’s head to do that to you?

No one bothers going after you. Fortunately, you're able to grab a cab and go back to the hotel.

Where you were staying with Ellie.

[bbydoll18xx]

This Is Me Trying

'I just wanted you to know that this is me trying.'

Azzi Fudd x Reader

Based on this request (sorry it took forever lol)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.1k

Themes: depression, mild alcohol abuse, hurt/comfort

A/N: hiii so here i am trying out writing for someone other than Paige, and I really hope you like it! If this is a decent success I may write for other people as well :) And of course it was time to write a fic to go along with my most favorite song of all time (folklore stans rise up)

Lets do thisss

also sorry this is lowkey kinda depressing i am a sad girly

~

Your lack of sleep was showing in deep purple bruises under your eyes that no amount of even the heaviest concealer could adequately cover. You haven't slept well in days, and today’s shift had not helped your exhaustion. The day was filled with incessant neediness, people cussing you out, and an endless amount of shit.

Literally and figuratively. 

You walk into your apartment, just wanting nothing but to fall into Azzi’s warm and loving arms, but you’re met with the still darkness of an empty home. Your girlfriend was in Las Vegas playing against the Aces, and she would not be home until tomorrow afternoon. 

She had promised to call you after the game, but you weren’t sure if you would even make it through your shower, much less wait up for her by the phone for another three hours. 

Your eyes fill with tears, the feeling of overwhelming loneliness mixing with your exhaustion, and as you throw your stuff on the floor, dredging your body into your bathroom, letting the downpour of water drown out your own tears. 

You had become quite accustomed to hiding your feelings behind bright smiles and fake laughs, desperate to clutch onto the need to prove to everyone that you were okay.

Even if you really weren't.

Your girlfriend had enough stress on her, and the idea of her needing to worry about you, too, was enough to send guilt shooting through your entire body. 

You had kept up your facade all throughout college, choosing to take long, solo car rides until you had to pull over, the tears swimming in your eyes nearly blinding you. And when you were strung along to the bars with Azzi and the rest of her teammates, you drowned your sorrows and fears with liquor, numbing your thoughts and your body until you were delirious. 

You were the golden girl. 

You knew what jokes to crack for which group of people you were around at the time. Your grades were stellar. And you had bagged the prettiest, sweetest girl in probably the entire universe. 

So, you resented yourself for feeling anything other than being on top of the world, because it was actually quite the opposite.

It got worse once you graduated. 

Azzi was often gone, traveling for away games, and that left you alone to process the unimaginable emotions that came with your budding nursing career. Feelings of loss and incompetence clouded your brain constantly.

Today was no different. 

You had lost a patient, a kind, gentle woman who finally let go, taking her last breath while gripping your hand, completely alone. 

It broke you, and the devastating reality had sunk into your chest, crushing all of the air out of your fragile lungs. And you were now gasping for air, leaving you feeling bereft and vulnerable, like an open wound. 

Maybe that’s all you’d ever really be, and you could not help but think that you were the festering wound in yours and Azzi’s relationship, threatening to slowly tear it apart until the two of you were left standing in the tattered shreds of what used to be. 

You wanted things to be okay so, so badly, but the overwhelming feelings of loneliness and longing had set in, chilling you down to the bone. And you were scared. 

So you would just continue on pretending. 

Azzi comes home the next day, and you put the mask back on the second she walks through the door. You’d be lying, though, if her presence didn’t make you feel the tiniest bit whole again. You melt into her arms, drinking in her presence, as she rubs your back soothingly, her face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

Maybe everything would be okay, if only you could be honest with her.

~

Azzi lays in bed next to you, and you indulge in the way her smell has permeated the soft bedsheets again, after days of the scent slowly becoming less and less potent. She smells warm and comforting, and you nuzzle into her, desperate for her to fix every little part of you that was screaming out in insecurity and despondancy.

A low sigh escapes your throat, secretly wanting your girlfriend to pick up on your mood, and because she knows you better than anyone else, she does. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” She questions, her tone filled with concern and worry. She places a hand on your cheek, coaxing you to look into her eyes, and the glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the kindness emitting from her deep brown irises. 

“I–” You begin, taking a deep breath and then stopping. Trying to put all your emotions into coherent words was quite the task. And honestly, you were terrified of how Azzi would react. 

Her thumb strokes your cheek, as she sits up fully next to you in the bed, eyes still peering into yours. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she murmurs gently, and something clicks inside of you.

It was Azzi. You could tell her anything, and it would never even come close to dimming any of the love she felt for you. 

In that moment, all the anxiety you felt about coming clean seemed silly, like it had been built up in your head to great heights, and here it was now, crashing down all around you.

“I’ve been really depressed,” you mumble, your cheeks feeling warm from her touch and the prickling of shame. “For a long time, actually. And I really fucking miss you. I hate feeling like a needy girlfriend, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

The confession pours out of you, and as the air stills between you, your heart races as you watch Azzi’s face contort into a look of hurt and confusion.

“Oh, baby,” she breathes, scooping you up and setting you into her lap, legs draped over hers as she interlaces your fingers with hers. 

“I’ve been missing you, too. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to sacrifice your career for mine,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss onto your temple. 

Your shoulders sag in relief, and you connect your lips in a kiss. There were numerous unspoken words shared as your lips entwined in a sheer display of passion.

As you break apart, you gaze back into those dark brown eyes, pupils now blown wide. “Guess this means we’ll have a lot more time to be doing this,” you giggle, wagging your eyebrows at Azzi.

She shakes her head fondly. “Just want my sweet, happy girl back,” she whispers in your ear.

Little did she know, you already were.

~

I really hope everyone enjoyed this. I have been toying around with a lil Pazzi fic, so let me know if you'd be interested :)

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half , @patscorner , @dietcokesmom , @tndaqltoifwy

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message!

[bchan95]

Sincerely, Me (Bang Chan x Reader)

Chan dedicates a song to you publicly to announce your relationship.

You shuffled into the aisle right behind the V.I.P. section. As you sat down, you looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. The blaring overhead light slightly tinted in your big sunglasses, and your arms crossed your chest, holding yourself into place as yelling fans filtered in on both sides of you.

Seeing Chan live was always a hassle. He wanted you to be protected, to have bodyguards around you in the crowd to keep you safe, but since your relationship was still a bit more on the low, you didn't want to appear too out of place in a sea of his biggest admirers. The two of you settled for a guard strategically placed with you in sight and his stylist on speed dial.

"Baby, call me when you get to the car after the show okay?" Your boyfriend said hastily as he downed another glass of water while waiting for his turn in the makeup chair.

"Chan, I always call you. I'll remember," You said with a giggle, letting your hand fall into his as he rubbed small circles onto the top of it.

"I know baby, but... just make sure you do okay?" His smile beamed up at you, a flight of pearly white.

You nodded, leaning in and kissing his forehead and then his lips before letting go of his hand and walking out of the dressing room. You were quickly whisked into a side door and dropped right past security. You slyly flashed them your badge in your pocket before walking down the stairs to the floor seat your boyfriend purchased.

Even though you'd seen this show twice already this run, your nerves were through the roof. Suddenly you were taken back to the moments in your teens, waiting for your favorite celebrity to jump on stage. You felt your heartbeat quicken as the music boomed through the speakers, mixtures of squeals and singing ringing through the rows as the fans hyped themselves up for the upcoming performance.

You admired the rows of bracelets that lined their wrists, the way they linked arms and sang at the top of their lungs together, crying tears of joy as they waited for the boys you know so fondly moved around the stage in a hurricane of speed and sound.

You felt oddly comfortable in this moment. Able to blend in so seamlessly with everyone else. You knew better than to think it would always be this easy. You knew that if you and Chan lasted as long as you hoped you would that eventually he'd have to tell everyone.

Part of you yearned for public acknowledgment. The thought of being able to hang on his arm in clubs, at awards shows, and even on vacations without the fear of being seen was tempting.

Another part of you worried about what would come with confirmation. Your boyfriend gave up his whole life for this career, and you didn't want to be the one to tear it apart. You wanted him to be successful, to continue to be able to produce songs he loved with the people he cared about the most.

You must have been lost in thought for a while, as the only thing to bring your eyes back to center stage was the sudden dimming of the lights and the loud screams tearing through your eardrums. Your breath caught in your chest as you rose out of your seat and joined them in their screams.

The booming sounds of the song rang through the speakers and you heard the familiar howl of your boyfriend. You giggled, clapping with everyone as they cheered them on. Chan found his place in the center of the stage to greet the crowd.

"What's going on Sydneyyy?" He smiled as they met him with a big smile. He nodded at them, throwing up a thumbs up to show how impressed he was.

Your eyes met for a second and you swore he winked at you. You shook your head, thinking that he wouldn't be that careless tonight. Still, your heart warmed at the thought of his risk and you yelled out their names in time with the rest of the crowd.

The set moved quickly, and as they ran through their solo sets you could feel your feet wearing on you. You sat down as the stage flipped over to black for a moment. You cursed the moment you decided to quickly throw on your Converse instead of your Docs, feeling your toes throb through the thin material of the shoe. You rolled your ankle back and forth, pressing your thumb to the side to release some pressure. Your efforts were put on pause as you heard a voice from above.

"Ma'am, follow me."

You looked up to see the smile of a bodyguard that you know well. You looked up at him in confusion, a furrow in your brow. He didn't say anything more but just stretched out his hand to you. You took his hand hesitantly and let him guide you out of the aisle. You watched as fans eyed you down as you moved closer and closer to the stage. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat as you followed his lead to the front row in a center seat next to his parents.

Chan's mom smiled at you as you moved closer to her. You nodded and smiled back at her. Why were you moved to the front so suddenly? Surely fans took videos of this girl being taken directly by Stray Kids security to the front of VIP. Chan's dad's giggle shook you back to the present, him chuckling over your shell-shocked reaction.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were quickly drowned out by screams as someone reentered the stage. You heard a familiar accent yell out to the crowd again.

"Ahhh so it's time for my solo stage..."

You looked up and watched your boyfriend take the center once again. He looked over at you with a wide smile, clear as day in the summer sun. You felt shivers take over your whole body as he maintained eye contact as he spoke.

"I have a special song that I wrote..."

The crowd screamed again and you could feel his parents' eyes on you. You could have sworn you felt the flash of his mom's camera on your cheek but you were too focused on his dark brown eyes to fully notice anything else anymore.

"I wrote it with someone special in mind," his eyes comb through the crowd before landing on yours again. He winked in your direction.

"This one's for my baby."

You could have sworn you felt your heart leap out of your chest as gasps and screams took over the crowd before the base kicked in. Your boyfriend places on his big sunglasses, a big smirk stretched across his lips. You felt frozen as you watched a performance you've seen several times before with a new perspective.

A song you thought your flirt of a boyfriend wrote just to make his fans go crazy, was about you? You caught him giggling on Bubble, and bringing the fantasy to life with fans every night... why wouldn't he tell you?

Despite your racing thoughts, you managed to bring a small smile to your face, clapping along to the familiar beat. Chan continued to put on his same charming choreography as he sang so sweetly. He pointed out in the crowd to several random fans before returning over to your side of the stage, beaming ear to ear.

"Baby I'll show that you’re the one," he sang, almost giggling through the lyrics. "Like a diamond ring such a pretty little thing you’re blinding everyone."

You felt yourself blushing as he winked at you before quickly moving back across the stage. Your nerves were swapped for a swelling amount of warmth in your chest as you sang along. You finally looked over at Chan's mom, her phone in hand as she filmed you. Your cheeks burn red as you shake your head and return your gaze to the stage.

Watching your rockstar of a boyfriend was always a treat, but something more bubbled to the surface when you knew he was singing directly to you. You have a lot of things you want to say, but you aren't really sure where to start. Ignoring the flight of what-ifs, you just allow yourself to enjoy the rest of the set.

As Chan ended his song, you quickly heard the sounds of disgust coming from the members reentering the stage. Filled with "oohs" and "ewws," they relentlessly teased Chan, shoving him back and forth like a ping pong ball.

Finally, they let him go, moving on to the next song with ease. You let yourself settle back onto your feet and simply just enjoyed the rest of the show. You sang with his mom, danced around with Hannah, and giggled at his dad's failed attempt at singing as you celebrated the boys.

As the final song ended the boys came back to the center of the stage to do their ments. You held back tears for everyone until it came to Chan. He came to the side of the stage and stood right in front of his family.

"...And I want to thank the ones I love the most for coming to the show tonight. Mom, Dad, Hannah... and my baby you know I love you. Thank you for making tonight even more special to me in one of my favorite places in the world," Your eyes widened as he continued. "I truly couldn't do it without you all."

He bit down on his lip as you stared at him. He had just done it. So casually in front of thousands of fans. He did what you never thought might not happen until you had announced an engagement. If even then. This acknowledgment brought tears to your eyes, as you smiled into the pink sky.

The set went dark and you hurried to grab your belongings and follow his family out of the venue doors and into the hallway below the stage. You finally let yourself fully take in the moment when away from all of the people and the cameras. Hannah's arm wrapped around you as you quietly wiped tears from your eyes. You look over at her to find her smiling.

"You guys are so sappy..." She joked, leaning into you as you two walked.

The family followed security to their car and you made your way to the tiny black car Chan called for you. As you felt the air conditioning hit your face, you brought the phone up to meet your gaze. You typed in the number you knew as well as your own and pressed it to your ear. It rang twice before you heard a familiar laugh.

"Baby, so what did you think?"

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲!?

Didn't anybody tell him being back in the booth will leave him singing solo?

Pairings: Lee Jihoon x Fem!reader | Slight!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A kink confession in couple's therapy might just save your relationship

Warnings: Established Relationship, Insecurities, Gender Roles, Slight!Toxic Relationship, Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Masturbation, Dom/Sub undertones, MeanDom!Jihoon, Sub!Reader, Innocence Kink, Slight DDLG, Ownership Kink, Hair Pulling, Spitting kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Humiliation, Submission Kink, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Oral Sex (Male rec), Breeding Kink, Slight!Hate sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Mine | Beyonce

Woops

"I'm aware that I'm on this mission to get my boyfriend to actually want to fuck me again but why does it feel like I've already failed on the very first step?" A whine so childish, and so petulant rips itself from the depths of your throat but Jihoon's running shower silences the pathetic noise.

While he showers, you're left sitting on the floor surrounded by a graveyard of designer lingerie. A too small Victoria's Secret set is immediately abandoned in its box, leaving you howling into the phone as you wriggle yourself into the complicated underwear.

Your confidence wanes as you adjust to the intricate bows and string of the set, wincing as you pull up the pink garter belt until it's clasped around your thighs. Soon enough, you're padding across the floor of your walk-in closet, hesitantly approaching a mirror.

"I mean, this says 'slut' but what if 'slut' isn't what he's attracted to?" Your hand curls tightly around the width of your phone, "Jihoon is an anomaly! What if I end up making a complete and utter fool of myself?" The mirror is nestled between Jihoon's clothing rack harbouring all his neatly pressed designer pieces. You let the sight of his intimidating fashion waver your already fragile confidence. 

"Are you hearing yourself?" Scoffs Mingyu through your phone's speakers, "What man has ever in the history of the universe not been attracted to 'slutty'? I feel like that might be a prerequisite in terms of the origins of the word." He says in a lax, calm manner, "Woozi'll just be happy to see boobs and ass becuase that's usually how a guy's brain goes. Or how mine goes at least."

Despite Mingyu's assurances, your arms are still folded over your scantily covered breasts while you cradle your phone in the air. "I don't know," your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. "You didn't hear him today at counseling, Mingyu. I feel like our therapist might actually hate us." You continue to cradle your torso, forcing yourself not to flinch at the memory of your earlier session of couples therapy. 

How far away Jihoon had felt despite being seated right beside you, like a gleaming, stoic-faced monolith. You feel as though you have been living in nothing but a perpetual winter, forever trying to please Jihoon, your boyfriend, but always falling short in front of Woozi, the entertainer. Work, work, work, on his mind meant that you were left to entertain your own wants by your lonesome. Even more harrowig, is the excuse he had given your therapist.

"She's always in boss mode," Jihoon's tone was as cold as ice, refusing to spare you even a single glance as he faced the therapist ahead, "And that's one of things I love about her, yes. Her drive and determination makes us compatible because I know I'm the same-"

A scoff slips past your lips at that point, making Jihoon's fist clench on the arm rest as you snootily interjected, "Don't misconstrue." You said, "He works more than me," and it was the truth as far as you believed it. Yes, you would gladly admit to neglecting a few key elements of your relationship in the face of your career, but never had you ever made Jihoon feel microscopic in your pursuits. Not like how he made you feel.

"It's important to listen to each other without interjecting." The therapist calmly scolded, leaving you grumbling in your seat, "You'd be surprised at how much could truly be accomplished by simply listening to each other,"

You were truly ready to tell that old lady to go to hell but something strange happened, and Jihoon finally opened his mouth, unburdening himself with what has truly been bothering him in his relationships as of late.

"It's just," He swears lightly under his breath, which does a terrific job in garnering yout attention. You peek up from underneath your lashes and you're stunned to hear him say, "I just wish she'd understand that it wouldn't burn down the foundations of feminism if she'd just," Jihoon's jaw ticked as he displayed the very first signs of emotion, "-Just let me take that load off for a bit…"

"In what way?" The therapist asked, sensing the nearness of a eureka moment. She treaded carefully, in fear of scaring Jihoon back into his shell. Thankfully, he made himself clearer because by now, you needed to know as well.

"She's the boss in her day to day and I respect that," he says, "But all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to leave all that shit at work..."

The therapist nodded with grave understanding, although even you could see the trepidation easing onto her face. There is no hiding the conflicting emotions displayed on your face.

"You're asking her to become more…" The therapist cleared their throat, "Submissive?" Jihoon had not responded after that, letting the pregnant silence act as his megaphone.

"I'm submissive," you had whispered, nodding as if trying to convince yourself of your words. "I'm like… so submissive," before you could decorate your lie with even more lies, Jihoon finally turned towards you. 

"Really?" He asked, "Where?"

You let an incredulous chuckle escape from your throat as you shot back, "Where what?"

Jihoon did a show of looking around the therapist's clinical office, delving deep into his petty theatrics as he calmly, "Where are you being submissive, because it hasn't been with me?"

The session had ended with you wracking your brain at Jihoon's admittance of what you suspect to be a kink. His words haunted you on the silent drive home. They had piqued your interest considerably, filling the atmosphere with a tense warmth, as if a tempest was brewing. One that neither of you was quite aware of how to deal with yet.

It was a feeling that led you into the deepest confines of your closet, until you pulled out the Savage x Fenty lingerie box, immediately calling Mingyu in a fit of panic while Woozi was in the shower. He was, after all, your best friend way before you even knew of Lee Jihoon.  

Ripping your arms away from your torso is a mission on its own, one you succeed with immense reluctance as you finally gaze at your reflection in all her half naked glory.

You commence a hesitant twirl in front of the floor to ceiling mirror.

Very hesitant. 

The lace bralette is digging into your ribs, and the matching pink garters are cutting into the skin of your ample thighs. It is all so painfully uncomfortable that you're threatening to take it off, no matter how much of a wet dream you may look like.

But there is excitement there too, bubbling beneath the surface, awakened by Jihoon's confession. You are almost excited to try this with him. Submission, sexually, was never on your cards previously but maybe this is something you should have noticed long ago. You pride yourself on being observant so why didn't you notice it before?

The soft affirmations of "Say my name," while he was steadily bringing you to orgasm with his fingers alone. The unmistakable need to have his hand locked around your throat whenever he was on the verge of cumming.

Even the non sexual stuff.

Ordering for you. Making sure your hand was always locked inside his when you found yourselves wandering the city. Forcing you to pay with his card despite knowing you made more than enough to sustain your lifestyle. 

How didn't you know?

Keeping a hesitant grip on your satin nightgown, you tilt your head at your reflection skeptically.

"Imagine how embarrassed I'll be if he just ignores me," The insides of your mouth is bleeding non stop from the way you've been gnawing at it, "Maybe I should just accept that work is the only love in Jihoon's life."

Mingyu's voice is diabolically soothing as it bleeds through your speakers, "No, no," he says, and you can imagine him swatting away at the air in the process "Jihoon acts like a prude but he's one of the biggest sluts- if not - the biggest slut I know."

"Besides yourself of course," you murmur,

"Besides myself of course" Eventually, Mingyu comes up with what he suspects is his big master plan.

"Perhaps you should send me a pic of you in it, that way when the little guy gets out of the shower and sees you, then you'll be far more relaxed in the knowledge that someone else has already seen you in it." 

It truly was Neanderthal mathematics. 

However, there is an underlying veneer in Mingyu's tone bleeding in through the phone's speakers that makes you believe your best friend is far from joking. Despite it infuriating Woozi to no end, Mingyu might never stop flirting with you ever. In respect of your dynamic.

"Surely, I shouldn't have to tell you that I'm not sending you a pic of me in my lingerie for you but I guess I have to put that into words you would understand maybe?" You hold up your fingers and clear your throat as you monotonously say, "how dare you," 'have you no shame, Mingyu," You ask, "Need I go on?" 

In the midst of Mingyu's petulant whines urging you to just 'leave your man' Jihoon's shower silences, and you right your bad posture immediately. You suddenly have no idea what to do with the drawstring of the nightgown. Somehow, this seemed like the make it or break it moment. The moment where you would decide to dive headfirst into your plans of winning back your relationship despite the possibility of being met with Jihoon's hostility and coldness that you had grown so accustomed to.

The pool of dread and anxiety is deep, and your hands are nearly shaking as your fingers gloss over the lacy pink garment. "I have to go," you whisper into the receiver, vaguely aware that you've already clicked the button to sever the line before your sentence even ends. All while you awaited the footsteps from Jihoon. But they never came.

Courageously abandoning your fear for the sake of actually getting laid, you walk up to the door of your shared bathroom and knock hesitantly.

"Jihoon? Honey, are you okay?" But he is not okay, in fact, Jihoon might venture to believe he may never be okay because your voice is just so pretty, even when muffled by a closed door. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his forearm is leaning against the shower glass, and you just called him honey and fuck, if he didn't start tugging at his dick faster. He feels pathetic, having to get himself off when you were right there but the nuances and complexities of fighting with your partner introduced the need for such things. 

Jihoon's jaw is locked tight as he succinctly and suspiciously responds with a rumbling and groaning "Fine."  His brows are furrowed, and his teeth locked tightly together as he fights to get off easily and succinctly.

He hopes that you would take the hostility in his voice as a sign to make yourself scarce. Jihoon already fucked up when he let the 'submissive' thing slip but he cannot bear to imagine the utter humiliation he would be subjected to if you swung that door open right now, catching masturbating in the shower, as if he did not have a girlfriend able to meet those needs… It bruises him like nothing else could. He did not want you to see him like this. He did not want you to know that even in the midst of your fights, you were the only woman he ever really thought of.

His palm skates over his soaked cock as his mind is filled images of you on your knees in front of him, head tilted back and tongue sticking out like a-

"Good little slut," It was intended as a whisper to fuel the violent pool of heat bubbling in his abdomen and make him cum quicker. A whisper that you weren't supposed to hear but your ear is on the door now and you shout back, 

"Did you say anything?"

He cannot reply because his cock is aching and heavy with the weight of his fantasy. A fantasy in which you were his to hold, his to fuck, his to cum inside of until you were completely and utterly full of his load-

"Fuck-"

He rushes to squeeze the base of his dick, edging himself even though he's not quite sure why. This had been his moment to just cum all over his hands, wash off his spilt seed and be done with it, but you're knocking much more fluidly on the door, and you're becoming impatient. 

"Honey, you're scaring m-," You venture to say, despite already pushing the bathroom door open. You're both left momentarily stunned by what the other is seeing in front of them. He is left paralyzed by seeing you in so little clothing… and wearing pink. 

While you did not anticipate seeing Jihoon naked in the shower. Why had you not anticipated that? That’s so silly. Your mouth hangs open with the shock of his beauty perhaps.

Has it truly been that long? 

In the same breath, Jihoon's lungs are wiped clean as he stares at you through the glass. His breathing is heavy, ghosting over the glass while his broad chest rises and falls. He is nothing but darkened hooded eyes. Eyes that ravage the sight of you in your lacy pink underwear, underwear that he had not seen anywhere. Where did you get that? When did you get that? Myriad thoughts swirl in Jihoon's mind, each more sinister and lustful than the last because you look so completely innocent and so soft standing by the door, arms at your side while the dressing gown hangs lazily off of your shoulders.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon decides to stop this nonsense by leaning back slightly. His long black hair still dripping down the sides of his face and his tongue skates over his bottom lip as he says,

“We should not be this surprised to see each other naked,” He says, a deep voice ringing out through the acoustics of the bathroom, “We are a couple, last I checked.”

When you do not respond, he tilts his head downward, letting an even deeper shadow cast over his eyes as he scans you from head to toe. For an innumerable amount of minutes all is quiet. It feels as though the world had been rid of noise, like you had teleported back in time, to a Charlie Chaplin motion picture. A world of absolute silence. 

You begin to wonder how you might respond because surely, you cannot stand here, gawking at him for the rest of your merry life.

Before you could even think of adding to the silence with anything, anything at all, Woozi keeps his ice cold gaze on you, as he leans his head against his forearm, the one still positioned against the shower glass and he resumes his movements of languidly stroking his thick cock buried in his tight fist. 

Your mouth runs dry as your eyes betray you, finally venturing down to watch him. You seem to have forgotten just how beautiful your boyfriend truly was, taking in his damp locks kissing his shoulders. He is all solid lines with a sculpted torso and you feel as  if you never even knew him at all.

"Jihoon," Your voice quivers with immense passion but he silences you immediately. 

"Don't ruin this. Please don't-"

"I wanna help." His mouth snaps shut but he can feel himself twitch in his palm. Jihoon's breath grows hot as you step closer and closer and he squeezes his cock, as the overall scent of you forces its way through his nose and into his brain. You're so utterly addicting, Jihoon's hand strokes almost instinctively, his hips even venturing to push his cock into his palm as he follows your every movement.

"I want you to tell me what to do," You finally say, letting the silk gown fall to the floor as you step into the shower, lingerie and all. Jihoon's mind has completely descended into lechery while his hooded eyes watch you with nothing but adoration.

"Your knees." Is all he is able to force out, "I need you on your knees," He whispers an incredibly hoarse, "Please," that has you falling to his feet automatically. The movement immediately had Jihoon's reeling. 

"Fuck," He whispers, the sound of complete awe rushing straight to your core as he finally let's all his inhibitions wilt away with the rest of his manners. Jihoon is quick to bury his fingers into your hair with a roughness you're surprised to see. Surprised but far from disappointed.

"Open your mouth," He instructs, despite already prying your mouth open with his thick fingers, forcing your teeth open as if you were his plaything all while craning your head backwards. 

Once he gets your mouth open, Jihoon is insatiable. He immediately bends down and crashes his lips into yours, letting his tongue invade the inside of your mouth like his life depended on it. It's a manic, passionate and domineering kiss, neck that had you moaning into his open mouth as your tongue wrestled with his.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?" His tone however, lets you know that he is not asking, not really, but you nod anyway, unsure of who or what has come over you. All you're really sure of is that you want to make him feel good. The goal, the satisfaction of it is building so fantastically inside of you, pushing through your arteries, steadily soaking your panties with arousal and eliciting a slightly wayward kind of dizzying emotion inside of you all at once.

"Tell me," he says, and you're forced to crane your head back as he straightens his form. "Tell me to fuck your stupid little mouth. Tell me it's what you want." His jaw is locked tight as his hand once again encloses around his sensitive dick. He refuses to give you anything, however, unless he hears you submit to him fully and completely. He feels like he needs to hear the words. Some part deep in his monkey brain needs the confirmation from the source, as if hearing you say such nasty, horrible things would increase his already heightened arousal.

"Please, Fuck my mouth, Jihoon!" In any other instance you might have been shocked at the words flowing out of your mouth, but your cunt is absolutely dripping through the fabric and your hand immediately dives down to cup your pussy through your panties as you look up at him and say, "Please fuck my slutty little mouth, Jihoon! I fucking want you to, pleasepleaseplease-"

"Such a slut- such a pretty little slut-" you'd never heard Jihoon's voice crack the way it just did and you really wish to hear that beautiful sound again. His hand is once again in your hair while his other hand is on your jaw. He pushes a finger inside until he's flattening your tongue and craning your neck even further back. You're momentarily confused, trapped in a haze of stupid lust before Jihoon hovers above you and spits directly into your mouth. 

You're moaning, and keening and Jihoon is already forcing his cock all the way inside your mouth.

"Your mouth-" His voice is hoarse as he eases his cock inside the warmth of your mouth. He cannot take his eyes off of you, his beautiful, brilliant girl taking his cock so far into your mouth while you had taken to humping your own hand like an insatiable little slut.

"Fuck baby," He murmurs, letting the tip of cock meet the very back of your throat before inching out again, "is my little girl really getting turned on from sucking cock?" His humiliation is punctuated by a sharp and powerful thrust, one that has you seeing stars and your vision blurring as you fight to keep him inside your mouth. "You don't even have to do anything," He says through gritted teeth, "I'm doing all the work fucking this tiny little mouth of yours, aren't I?" You can feel how turned on he is. He's fucking huge inside your mouth as he slides himself to and fro like his life depended on it.

"God you're so beautiful like this," He whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful taking my cock like a good little whore."

Jihoon's gaze lowers down to where your hand has taken to pushing aside your panties and rubbing swift wet circles on your clit.

"You're not gonna cum like that," He says, almost immediately stilling his frantic hips, "when you cum, it's gonna be because of me, understand?" His grip on your forearm is solid as he pulls you up from off the shower floor. You're absolutely limp in his hands, breath heavy as he brings you close to him. There is a silent, almost tender exchange, with him breathing heavily in your face while you stare wide eyed up at him.

Soon, he's spinning you around with his hands digging into your sides as he presses your front against the fogged up glass. Letting your tits push against the cool, wet surfaces, he draws your hips to his. 

Before he sinks his cock into you, a very strange thing happens. Soft pillowy lips brush against your shoulder blade, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"Thank you," He whispers before sinking his cock into you with determination. He bottoms out faster than you anticipate, all while you've taken to moaning and whimpering like a mad woman. Your sounds egg him on, until he's rutting his twitching cock inside of you, desperately searching for the alleviation of a budding and aching need inside him.

"You feel so fucking good, you know that?" You hear him behind you. Feel him behind you. Your walls stretch and contract around his cock who continues to bully your insides.

"F-Fuck, Jihoona-" 

"Fuck, you're squeezing me, Princess," Your orgasm sneaks up on you pile the devil himself, stripping you of your dignity as you push your hips backwards, almost instinctively forcing his cock deeper as you fucked yourself back onto him. Jihoon's mind is absolutely deranged with lust. He sinks his nails into the softness of your sides and he pulls your hips impossibly closer. He fucks you like a madman, his cock is fluid and quick, pushing against that particular cushion of nerves that has your orgasm feeling like an absolute lifetime. Your panties that had been carelessly pushed aside creates a second later of friction that has him so dangerously close to the edge.

"I'm going to cum inside you." He states while never letting himself stop fucking you, "Fuck- I'm going to cum inside you-" It's the hardest you've ever seen him cum before. His hair is messy and a darker shade under the wetness of the shower, his eyes are hooded and glossy and his body is shuddering against you, overcome by a wave of vicious shocks as he stutters and empties his balls deep inside of you. His cock is forced deeper than it's ever been and you're made completely full of his load. Jihoon is utterly spent as he lowers his weight onto your back. Letting a sea of kisses reign down on your back as your heavy breathing fills the warm and damp air.

"You look so fucking beautiful," He says, never letting his pecks against your back stop, "so fucking gorgeous." That seems like apology enough, on both parts.

[callahanisms]

body talk

seeing challengers was a mistake guys because all i can think about is challengers and how much i love challengers and how cinema is back after people declared the death of cinema like three years ago and how much i wanna go see challengers again—

anyways uhhhh did challengers make me hop onto the mike faist train? yes. because i love a man that clearly worships his wife and kisses boys.

character: art donaldson

for vibes: "physical" by olivia newton-john

context: stanford university. 2007.

if you had a choice, you wouldn't be working as a receptionist in the gym. instead, you'd work in the infirmary. it was more in line with your desire to pursue sports medicine.

your father himself was an athlete who sustained a career ending injury and went into sports medicine. you wanted to follow in his footsteps.

but for now, you were working as a receptionist at the gym for your federal work study. college wasn't going to pay for itself unfortunately and your parents could only provide so much support.

art donaldson recognized you while you guys were at a party. "you're the person at the desk in the gym!" he sounded so excited. almost like a puppy.

"yeah..." you look down at your red solo cup. "you're like a regular. with tashi duncan."

"you know her?"

"well, i've talked to her a few times. she's great." who wouldn't like her honestly? you weren't the biggest fan of tennis but whenever tashi duncan played, she always managed to make it magical.

"you're also in my bio class, right?"

"you're in my bio class?"

"oh don't tell me you didn't notice."

you shrug. "i didn't. you're not very...noticeable, i guess."

art took personal offense to that statement.

okay not entirely. because to some extent, you were right. he wasn't as noticeable as some of the other people in class, like the lacrosse player on the guys team or the girl from the basketball team, both of whom you seem to be close with.

growing closer to art was just a matter of being in a lot of classes together, something you didn't realize during the first month of college.

to be fair, it was a lot.

but the good thing about having a lot of classes with him was that it meant you always had a go to person for group projects. and god were professors adamant about assigning group work.

at the very least, you had a workout buddy when you guys were free. sometimes, you were even joined by tashi duncan. so it was cool to be able to work out with a famous tennis player.

perhaps the gym is where you started to notice art's...physicality.

he wasn't entirely imposing, aside from being quite tall. but he had a surprising amount of muscle. perhaps the tank tops he wore didn't help much. it left little to the imagination.

because of your familiarity with the body and your desire to go into sports medicine, art called you when he was feeling a bit sore.

he opens the door with a smile, seeing you with your bag and clementines. "what's the fruit for?"

"just in case you get hungry." you step in and remove your shoes. "just lay down."

"bed or floor?"

"whichever you prefer. the bed might be more comfy. we'd have to move stuff around if you were on the floor. oh and take off your shirt."

"what?" he could feel his cheeks beginning to heat up.

"take off your shirt. a massage won't be that effective with your shirt on."

"alright. umm..." art just does what you ask of him, taking his shirt off and setting it aside on his desk chair. he gets on the bed and lays down, front side down.

you pull out a bottle of lotion and crawl onto the bed, straddling him at his waist. you are unaware of how red he is feeling you against him.

you feel around his back for bit, asking him where in particular is tight. once you got a good idea, you squirt some lotion onto your hands, rub it a bit, then begin to massage.

art would be embarrassed from the sounds that came out of him. but he was craving for the relief from his overworked and tired muscles. he could feel just how deep your hands went in, twisting and rubbing. your hands felt so good. they glided smoothly and your touch soothed him greatly.

"damn dude. when was the last time you massaged yourself?"

"don't know." he mutters, burying his lower face into his own pillow. he could feel himself growing warmer all over his body.

your palm pressing into him, dragging itself through his muscles, rubbing baby lotion into his skin so he's soft.

your hand reaches a part of his lower back, your palm rubbing through the muscle. and he moans.

you stop for a moment. "something wrong?"

"no...nothing's wrong..." he mutters.

"you sure?"

"yes. keep going."

he enjoys the way your hands move lower, and lower. he wants them to sneak to the front. massage him a different way.

your hands linger on a particular spot of his back though, feeling the defined muscle. there's something particularly...satisfying, about running your hands over his body. you were tempted to feel more. especially his arms.

art's arms were utterly gorgeous, as if sculpted out of marble by a renaissance artist themselves.

"i think you're all good."

"all done already?" he smelled like baby lotion. whatever that mean.

"unless you want me to massage elsewhere." you get off of him and he turns on his side to look at you.

the tank top you were wearing was a little bit tight.

art gently grabs your wrist. "magical hands you know."

"it's beneficial to learn how to massage. for your own betterment and health. though i will happily help you with the spots you can't reach."

he rubs circles into your wrists. "are they tired?"

"a little. it was because i took an exam yesterday. writing in those blue booklets is absolute torture."

"that's fair." his eyes flicker up to yours. the room was warm, the atmosphere right. "do you...like my body?"

"it's nice. you're very beautiful." you smile.

art pulls you forward, your legs hitting the wooden bedframe of the shitty college provided furniture.

"do you want to feel it?"

you bite your lip. "i think i do."

[chukys-mouthguard]

nights like this

3.3k words

featuring: auston matthews x female reader

genre: fluff, suggested smut

summary: Auston has just been named the newest captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, and while you worry about pulling off a surprise dinner, Auston has his own surprise in store for you

Watching from the front row with Auston’s family, you tried your best to not get emotional. Partially because of not wanting to ruin your makeup, but the other half of you knowing Auston would surely laugh at you for it.

Auston had just been named the newest captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs, which was such an amazing accomplishment for him still so young in his career. John Tavares shook his hand as he presented Auston with the jersey, the two of them posing together before Auston did a few solo shots.

You smiled at him as you clapped along with the crowd, his eyes finding yours as he shot you a wink. His smile was bright as he held the jersey proudly. The news was not something he’d necessarily expected, but he was so honored to accept.

He’d come home from meetings earlier in the week, to which you assumed were standard team business. But as he greeted you in the kitchen asking to sit you down, you had grown nervous that he was delivering some bad news.

-

“Hey baby, smells good.”

Auston kissed your lips as you were preparing lunch. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder. Watching your hands as they were busy chopping up some veggies for the dish you were making.

“Is it too much to ask you to pause for a quick second? I’ve gotta talk to you.”

You’d dropped the knife almost immediately, his tone of voice catching you off guard as you grew nervous fast. Turning in the grip of his arms to face him you wiped your hands with a towel.

“Is everything okay?”

He softly smiled as he took your hand, leading you to the couch as he sat you down before taking a seat on the coffee table in front of you. His hands held tight to yours as he looked at the floor.

“Auston, baby, hurry up I’m freaking out inside! And lunch is gonna burn!”

He chuckled as he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them both before he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“So, as you know I had several meetings recently with the team, and it’s nothing bad. It’s actually pretty amazing, honestly. And today, they let me know that they are looking to take the organization in a new direction this season. That new direction is gonna start with me.”

Despite him telling you this was good news, it hadn’t yet sounded like anything good. It started to sound like somehow Auston was being traded with the way he chose to phrase this.

“You’re looking at the newest captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

Your jaw fell to the floor as you stared at him, his smile grew from ear to ear as he watched your reaction. The tears subconsciously welled in your eyes as you were overcome with emotion, wanting to scream and run around the house. But also just wanting to hug him tight and never let him go.

“Auston, stop. You’re serious?”

He nodded his head laughing at your disbelief, “yes, hand to god baby.”

“Babe! I’m so proud of you!”

Jumping up from the couch you wrapped your arms around him as he stood up, lifting you off your feet as he hugged you. Your legs wrapping around his waist as you peppered his face with kisses. Auston just laughed at your reaction, carrying you back towards the kitchen as he saw a pot of water boiling on the stove.

“Auston this is amazing! Oh my gosh, we have to celebrate!”

He set you down as he tended to the boiling pot, stirring the water that was tasked with cooking some rice before he turned down the flame.

“Well, not yet. It hasn’t been announced yet. So we have to wait until next week to do any celebrating after the official reveal and announcement by the Leafs.”

You playfully groaned with a roll of your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight as you were so in awe of him.

“Fine, I guess I’ll wait a week to let everyone know how amazing you are and how proud I am of you. I love you baby, and I’m seriously so fucking proud of you!”

-

Now the day was finally here to celebrate.

As Auston came down from the stage, the press conference now over, he stopped to hug each of his friends and family in the front row. Leaving you for last as he walked up with the biggest smile on his face.

“I told you no crying allowed today, you’re such a softie baby.”

He wrapped his arms around you as he chuckled, his teasing just making you smile as you couldn’t help your emotions. He kissed your lips before taking your hand in his as he continued through the room to greet and thank other familiar faces for coming.

Auston had kept you by his side for the remainder of the post-press conference festivities, his arm wrapped around your waist as his thumb traced circles over the fabric of your dress. You found it hard not to be in awe of him. To know all of these people were there to support him, to support this new chapter of the organization that was starting with him. To know they believed in a future with him as captain, it made you so proud to call him your boyfriend and get to the by his side throughout this new journey.

“You look stunning tonight baby.”

Auston pulled you in for a kiss as the two of you waited for the elevator, the press conference finally coming to an end after much media attention and thank you’s were expressed to the guests.

“And you look so handsome, Mr. Captain.”

You jokingly teased the nickname, still feeling like it wasn’t real as Auston simply rolled his eyes with a smile. Knowing that were surely going to enjoy that nickname a little too much, but he’d get over it.

The two of you took the elevator down to the parking garage, climbing into Auston’s car as he quickly replied to a couple texts before starting it up.

“Where to for dinner babe?”

You hadn’t told Auston but you planned a surprise celebratory dinner at one of his favorite restaurants for his family and closest friends. The secret was not an easy one to keep as he could usually sniff out a surprise from a mile away, and you were worried he had possibly found out from a teammate to ruin it.

“I actually arranged dinner for us tonight, as a little surprise for you.”

Auston looked at you with a smirk before backing out of his parking spot, it wasn’t that he didn’t like you making plans, he just loved being the one to spoil and take care of you so it never ceased to shock him when you did the same for him.

“Really? You arranged dinner? That’s a nice surprise, where to?”

You’d plugged the directions into his GPS for the restaurant, growing nervous that maybe he’d found out from someone about the surprise. Trying not to give Auston any sign that you were nervous as you sat in the passenger seat as his hand rested on your thigh, the only thing keeping you calm.

“Wow, I forgot how beautiful this place is. We haven’t been here in awhile, I’m excited.”

He leaned over giving you a kiss before you exited the vehicle for valet, Auston taking your hand in his as he led you up the small set of stairs to the restaurant. The hostess greeted you as you gave her the name of your reservation, soon following behind as she led you to the private back room.

You could feel your hand beginning to sweat in Auston’s grip, knowing that it wasn’t the end of the world if the surprise flopped, but you wanted to do this special for him.

Pulling him close to you as you approached the doors to the secluded dining room, you took a deep breath, anticipation slowly building to see his reaction to the room of people.

“Here you two are, right in here!”

The hostess beamed with a smile as you two turned the corner, the small group of friends and family instantly cheering as you came into their view. Auston immediately rolling his eyes with a smile, completely caught off guard by the surprise as he looked at you laughing.

“You did this? Baby, you’re amazing. Oh my gosh.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around you to be sure and let you feel how appreciative he was for the surprise. His hands cupping your face as he kissed you once more.

“Thank you baby, this is so special. I love you.”

“I love you too, Aus.”

Auston moved to mingle with the group which included his family, a handful of his teammates that were at his press conference, and a few close friends both from the league and from back home.

You took a seat next to Auston’s mom as you finally felt you could relax, a glass of wine immediately in hand as she offered you cheers in congratulations.

“You did it! Now you can relax and enjoy the night.”

A sigh leaving your lips as you nodded in agreement. So thankful that you’d managed to pull off the surprise, despite it being something small and intimate. You watched as Auston greeted his friends that flew into town, a big smile on his face as they all congratulated him on his captaincy. The only word to describe how you felt in the moment was proud, and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world than by his side.

“Everyone, if I could just take a second of your time before we wrap up the night.”

Auston stood at the front of the room as he gathered the attention of the group, smiling as some of his teammates were chanting for him to make a speech. To which he just playfully shook his head.

“I just wanted to thank each and every one of you for coming tonight, this means so much to me and it was such a pleasant surprise. I’m really excited for this new journey, and honored to be given this opportunity to be captain and I hope I can make the city proud, the fans proud, but also each of you proud so thank you. Lastly, y/n.”

Auston wasn’t an emotional person, but as he looked at you, you swore you saw him getting choked up or teary eyed.

“I don’t know how you pulled this off, mostly because I’m the biggest snoop and always ruin surprises. But this is incredible, and it means so much to me. You have been my rock for so many years, and to know I get to have you by my side as I navigate this new journey, I know that no matter what happens, I’ll be great as long as I’ve got you. So thank you babe, I love you.”

Auston raised a glass to you and the room as everyone reciprocated, all talking a drink together before a final cheer of the room erupted and everyone gathered their things to head out.

You and Auston had stayed to see all of the guests out before leaving, making sure to thank everyone individually once again. Finally heading home after what felt like the longest day, but one you would never forget.

You’d been quiet on the drive, Auston knowing it was a mixture of wine drunk and being tired, so he didn’t bother you much. His hand resting on your thigh as his thumb traced circles over the fabric, a smile on his face as you eventually laced your fingers with this.

“I’m so proud of you baby.”

He chuckled at your somewhat slowed speech from the wine, pulling your hand to his lips as he kissed the back of it. Before resting it on his thigh for the remainder of the drive.

“Thank you, for that, and for tonight. It was amazing, you’re amazing. Tonight was definitely nothing short of amazing.”

The fingernails of your free hand traced up and down his forearm as he pulled into the driveway of your shared home. Parking the car in the driveway before heading over to your door to help you out, but he’d soon realize the wine had certainly kicked your ass tonight.

“Aus, I cannot get out of this car. My heels won’t let me.”

He shook his head as he reached for your hands, helping you out of the car with a chuckle, the reaching back in to grab your bag that was sitting on the floor.

“Seems like someone calmed their nerves with a little red wine tonight huh?”

Pouting your face at him playfully you let out a sigh, doing your best to get yourself into the house on your own as a protest to his joking. Though only making it two steps before stumbling and needing Auston to steady you.

“Gosh baby, falling for me all over again?”

He playfully winked as he helped you regain your composure, laughing as you rolled your eyes at his awful joke.

“Auston Taylour Matthews I swear to-Ah!”

Without warning he scooped you off your feet, earning a slightly shocked yelp from you. A chuckle of embarrassment followed as he carried you inside, taking you into the kitchen where he set you onto the island as he began to work at figuring out the straps on your heels.

“Aus you’re never gonna get them off, just let me.”

“Hush, if I can figure out a bra strap one handed I can get a strap off on a heel.”

You rolled your eyes laughing at his choice of words, watching as he miraculously got the heels off in record time. Tossing them to the side, then resting his hands on either side of your hips as he smiled down at you.

“You were saying?”

He playfully pecked your lips as your fingers played with the chains that were peeking out from under his dress shirt.

“To be honest, you don’t always figure out the bra straps, you’ve definitely just ripped a few bras off of me from time to time.”

Auston rolled his eyes as he discarded his suit jacket, tossing it into the back of the couch before rejoining you in the kitchen.

“Semantics!”

His fingers played with the fabric of your dress at your hips as he placed kisses along your exposed collar bone. His demeanor becomes a bit more timid before you as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

Your hands now resting at the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair as you both just sat in this moment, enjoying the first real opportunity to just be with one another after such a long day.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

As you hummed your response, Auston pulled himself from you as he let out a sigh. The look on his face makes you nervous despite your wine buzz that has overtaken you. His expression was one you couldn’t exactly read as he took your hands in his, the anticipation causing your heart to race.

“Aus, what is it? You’re making me nervous!”

You giggled to hopefully calm his nerves, to which he apologized, not trying to scare you. With another sigh, he took your hands in his as he smiled at you.

“I’m just so incredibly thankful for you. For this night, and every night I get with you. Today was such a long day, of course exciting, but also tiring. And to be able to come home and spend moments like this with you, it’s the best thing in the world.”

You wanted to blame the wine for the tears you felt forming, but knew that would be a lie, your emotions always so easy to elicit when it came to Auston.

“Auston, thank you baby. That means so much to me, I’m so thankful to get to do this with you and be by your side.”

He nodded at you as his own tears were now in his eyes, catching you off guard as he was rarely one to cry. Your hands immediately went to his face to wipe his tears, making him laugh as he could barely get any words out.

“I’m okay, I just. I’ve realized over these last few weeks, that you truly are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You are by my side through the best times, but more importantly the worst times and the toughest times. And in this new chapter, being captain, I have no idea what that will bring for me. But I know that I can’t do any of it without you by my side.”

You were hanging on every last word as he spoke, trying not to ugly cry at the kitchen island as you knew he’d surely poke fun at you for it, but the moment was certainly getting the best of you.

As Auston paused, he opened up the drawer at the counter behind him, taking a deep breath before he turned back to face you. Your eyes immediately searched for what he’d pulled from the drawer.

“Y/n, baby, I know now that you’re my person. I’ve known from the day I met you that you were it for me. You have made me a better man, and I want to continue to be that man for you now and forever. I’m ready to start a new journey with you, to make a promise to love and cherish you forever, to start a family and grow old with you. So, y/n—“

Auston’s arm moved from behind his back to reveal a small black box, with the most amazing ring you’d ever seen. A gasp leaving your lips as you were now certainly ugly crying, but you didn’t care. The emotions overtaking you as you were too stunned to speak.

“Will you marry me?”

Without any hesitation you nodded your head, nervous that if you went to speak you’d say the wrong thing or no words would come out. Auston jokingly confirming with you that you did in fact want to say yes, you simply couldn’t form the words.

He slid the ring on your finger as you could barely hold still, shaking at the sight of the symbol that represented everything he’d just spoken but also so much more.

You immediately pulled him in for a kiss, never wanting to let him go. To stay in this exact moment forever and ever, feeling so in love and on top of the world.

“Oh my god, Auston I can’t believe this!”

You shrieked as you threw your arms around his neck, Auston picking you from the counter as he spun you around. Peopering your face with kisses as he carried you down the hall and towards the staircase to head upstairs.

As he laid you down in bed, you couldn’t stop staring at the ring, earning a sarcastic groan from him as he began to discard his dress shirt. Soon climbing into bed as he hovered over you, peppering your face with kisses before moving down to your neck. His eyes looking up to see you still stealing glances at the ring while you tried to enjoy the moment with Auston.

“Babe, if you can’t stop starting I’m gonna take it away.”

You quickly averted your gaze from your hand, pulling his face up to yours in a kiss that was at first soft and apologetic but soon turned deep and passionate as Auston’s hands snaked up your dress and explored each and every one of your curves. A hand stopping to cup your cheek as he took control of the kiss, his tongue fighting yours for dominance to which you obliged. Smirking against his lips as he slowly pulled away, but not without a playful nibble at your bottom lip.

“I love you Auston Matthews.”

“And I love you, Mrs. Auston Matthews.”

[a-silent-symphony]

Floor Jansen (photoshoot for her debut album ‘Paragon’)

[the-save-place-art]

A valkyrie…

[sunny44]

Forget about us

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Ex!reader

Warnings: nothing I guess

Summary: Y/n writes a song about her ex and ends performing for him.

Note: heyy, this story was inspired by the song Forget about us from Perrie, im using her as face claim and her last name also.

Y/nedwards instagram post

Liked by @rebeccadonaldson, @maxverstappen1, @yourbff and others 28397

Y/nedwards Hey guys, I’m happy to tell you all that my new single “Forget About Us” is out now. This is a very personal song for me and I was really concerned to put it out but here we are.

Hope you guys like it

@f1fan this song is fantastic and I love it

@jnao22 I hope Carlos listens to it

@Imrebeccad In love with this song

Load for more comments

This was definitely the most personal song I had ever written. I had written songs about him and our relationship before, but nothing so deep and exposing my feelings so clearly. But after years, I finally felt ready to expose my feelings to the world, and here we are.

And it happened to be during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, to which I was invited by Ferrari. Even though I knew he would be there, I couldn't refuse because, according to my agent, this was what I needed for my career, especially since I made a song about him, even though people didn’t know about it.

So here I was, entering the garage and being greeted by some familiar faces.

"Y/n." I turned around to see Charles, surprised to see me.

"Hi." I hugged him.

"How are you? It's been a while." He said, a bit awkwardly.

"I'm fine, and you?"

"Also fine. I heard your song, and it's amazing."

"Thanks, I listened to yours too, and I'll definitely ask you to do a piano solo for me."

"I'd love that."

"Y/n?" And the voice I least wanted to hear.

"Carlos." I said simply.

"I didn't know you were coming."

"Yeah, I was invited."

"Oh, that's great. How are you?" At this point, Charles had already found a way to slip away.

"Good, and you?"

"Good too." Thank God he didn't mention the song.

"You are..." he was interrupted by a woman with brown hair and beautiful blue eyes.

"Hi, love." She kissed him and looked at me. "Hi, you’re Y/n, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm Rebecca, Carlos's girlfriend." She said kindly and extended her hand to me.

"Yeah, of course." I shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, I loved your song. I haven't stopped listening to it for a minute."

"Song?" Carlos asked, confused.

"The one I showed you the other night, and you said it was very good."

"Thanks for that. Look, I need to go, but it was a pleasure meeting you."

"Sure, if you want to watch the race with me."

"Thanks for the invite." I said, walking away.

It was all too much. The encounters happened very quickly, just minutes after I arrived so I needed some time away. But on my way, I bumped into someone and would have fallen if the person hadn't caught me.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry." I said as soon as I regained my balance.

"No problem, I almost made you fall." I picked up my bag from the floor. "Y/n, right?"

"Yes, nice to meet you."

"Max." He said, and that's when I realized he was another driver.

"Of course, I know who you are." He smiled. "Sorry again, I wasn't paying attention, and it's very crowded here."

"Small place with lots of people, it's normal." He laughed. "Which garage are you in?”

"Ferrari."

"I knew I recognized you from somewhere."

"Please don't tell me it's because of Carlos."

"Actually, no, you released a song a few days ago, didn't you?"

"Yes I did."

"Daniel hasn't stopped listening to it, and he insisted I listen to it too. Really good, by the way." He said kindly.

"Thanks, that means a lot."

"Now I know who it's about." He joked, and for some reason, that made me laugh.

"Yeah."

"You're welcome in the Red Bull garage anytime."

"Thanks."

"Well, I have to go, but I'll see you around."

"Sure, definitely." He waved and started to leave. "Oh, there's an event tonight, and they're looking for someone to close the night. I'll mention you."

"Wow, thank you, that would be amazing."

"See you later then."

"Sure." And then he left.

...

A few hours later, I got a call from the event organizer at Tag Heuer, saying that if I was available to sing my song at the end of the night, she would send me the details. Since I couldn't refuse, I obviously accepted.

And now, I was here, nervous, trying to think of an outfit that would look good but not too simple since Monaco wasn't a place where people wore ordinary clothes.

"Oh my God, I have nothing to wear." I said, frustrated, to myself, and seconds later, there were knocks on my door. When I opened it, my manager walked in with a black garment bag, probably with an outfit inside, followed by two more women. "What's going on?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't find a way?" She shook the hanger in her hand, and I laughed. "Have you showered?"

"Yes."

"Then you can start on the makeup."

I think an hour later, I was ready. The outfit was perfect for a performance at an event in Monaco. I would say a bit over-the-top in my opinion, but according to my manager, it was a common outfit for the place we were in.

When I left the hotel and headed to the event, I was wearing a black dress for now since I would be participating in the party a bit before my performance, and she didn't want to spoil the outfit's surprise.

When I arrived, I obviously passed by several photographers before managing to get inside. Once I stepped inside, a few gazes turned directly to me, and I just smiled and tried to blend in.

"You look beautiful." I heard a voice behind me, and it was Carlos.

"Thanks, you don't look bad yourself."

"Thanks."

"Found you." Now it was Max. "So, are you nervous about later?"

"Later?" Carlos asked.

"Oh, I mentioned her to the Tag Heuer folks. They were looking for a final performance to close the event."

"You're going to sing?"

"Yes."

"Want something to drink?"

"Oh, I don't think it's a good idea. Better not to be tripping during the performance." Max laughed and agreed. "But I'll take a sparkling water if you have."

"Sure, be right back."

"About the song..."

"We don't need to talk about it. Actually, I don't want to talk about it."

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it with you."

"Because the song is about me?"

"Look, just forget it, okay? I wrote a song about something in my life, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't say there was."

"Just forget it, okay? Why don't you go be with your girlfriend?"

"So you can stay here alone with Max?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's obvious he's into you."

"And this concerns you because?" He didn't respond. "That's what I thought."

With that, I left and found Max halfway. We talked until it was time for me to go. I changed clothes and was backstage, waiting for them to announce me so I could go on stage.

"And now we have one last performance, singing her newest single. Y/n Edwards."

I went on stage, and the music started playing. I felt the gazes on me, but his gaze felt like it was burning my skin. I had to be careful not to stare at him the whole song, but a few times our gazes met, and when the song was ending, I looked at him, who was smiling at me and applauding along with everyone else.

After that, I returned to the party, which now had a DJ. I received several compliments and once again encountered Carlos, but this time with his girlfriend.

"You were amazing." She said excitedly and hugged me. "It was even better live, and I loved your outfit."

"Thank you."

"Y/n." Max came with a drink in hand. "Here, your manager said it's your favorite."

"Thanks."

"Come on, let's leave them alone." Rebecca said, and reluctantly, Carlos went with her.

"Come, let's go over there." He took my hand, and we went to the other side.

Most of that night is a blur. Max and I drank too much, and I only remember waking up naked next to him the next morning. I spent the day at his apartment with him until I caught a flight to England in the evening.

...

Already back in my routine, I woke up to the alarm, ready to get dressed for an interview. When I picked up my phone, I was hit by thousands of news stories with titles like "Carlos Sainz and Rebecca Donaldson Break Up," and there was also a message among the thousands of others that caught my attention.

Bonus scene!

Y/nedwards instagram stories

“So happy that I got to play my song here in Monaco, thank you @Taghauer”

[slightlymore]

the neighbour

bangchan x fem reader

genre: neighbours!au, slow burn, smut!!!!, romance, tiny angst, some fluff moments, strangers to lovers, sexual tension, dual perspective 

content/warnings: +18, solo m, solo f, accidental auditory voyeurism (auralism), toys solo f, lots of dirty thoughts, lots of dirty talks, raw, oral f, oral m + deepthroating + swallowing/facial, manhandling, multiple orgasms both, body worshipping, praise kink, light degradation, edging both, begging both, thigh riding, finger sucking, hand necklace, hair pulling both, biting both, spanking, mirrors, fingering, titty and nipple play, cum play, creampie, spit, overstimulation both, aftercare + they’re both lowkey perverts sksk

words: 14k

___

When he heard the first noise, Chris sighed deeply, puffing his cheeks before releasing the air. He considered himself lucky to not have had a neighbour for the longest time - not because he was worried of them being annoying - he just liked the freedom of being the only one on that building floor. 

And when he heard the second noise and the buzz of many people talking, he knew he had to go outside and check on who was in the middle of moving in. 

Not because he was nosy (he was) but because he wanted to understand the kind of person (or worse, family with children? god) was moving in. Also maybe they needed help (he wasn’t actually going to help, he was just a Libra and a people pleaser). 

“Hey-ya” he nodded once at some uniformed men, carrying boxes upon boxes into the next door apartment. The men tipped their little hats as a greeting and Chris leaned on the door frame with arms crossed on his chest. He was a good diplomat. He was a great diplomat even. No. A spy. And he was sure he’d get all the information he wanted out of them. 

He opened his mouth to start with the first of the questions when a voice blocked the words in his throat. 

“Be extra careful with that one box, please. It’s fragile.” 

Chris had to start from the bottom. 

No, his eyes did a quick look at everything but then he thought he must start again from the bottom. 

And slowly. 

He stared at your shoes. Heels. Not too tall, not too short. Pointy and black. Classic. Then your ankles. God, he loved ankles. No hosiery although it was pretty cold. Did you care too much about fashion? Or not enough? God, he loved legs too. Pencil skirt. A bit outdated but it worked. Shirt and blazer? Office worker. 9-5 person. Fuck, he definitely had to stop blasting his music at night. Unbuttoned shirt. Daring. God, he loved necks. Wait, wait. Hands? Hand. Left hand. No rings. No partners or children? Maybe. Single mom? Could be. Career woman? Perhaps even worse - full or rules. 

“Are you going to keep staring or will you finally turn around, go inside, and mind your own business?” 

The voice returned and Chris had to finally analyze the lips. God, he loved li-

“I’m being serious,” you added. 

Chris cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Hi. I noticed you’re moving in.” 

You let your eyes drape over his body, from his nude toes (you made some kind of face and Chris felt really self conscious about his toes for a moment there), then his thighs (he shivered), and when you lifted one eyebrow he felt completely naked. 

“Alright, I get it. It’s uncomfortable to be stared at,” he fought the urge to cover his crotch in the damn grey sweats he chose for the day. 

“Yes, I am moving in. Congratulations, you have eyes,” you made a little smile. Those types of smiles you do when you hate someone and you kinda want them to notice but not too much. 

Chris let out a dry chuckle in the form of air from the nose. “Thanks. Do you need any help?” 

You were going to say no. You were definitely going to say no. Not only you had a whole minions squad to move in for you, but you also looked like the type of person to refuse help altogether. 

“Actually,” you leaned towards the wall and Chris followed your movement as you grabbed a square soft-looking bag-box thing with both arms and handed it to him. 

“Could you please take Nyx in for a few hours? She’s scared of all the noise.” 

Chris silently took the bag-box and looked inside. 

“It’s a cat,” he said, one beat before realizing again he was sounding a bit stupid. 

“Do you always say at loud everything that goes on in your-” 

“Don’t finish that,” he interrupted you. 

You closed your mouth with a little smile. 

Chris looked at the cat again. It was black with gorgeous green eyes. 

“Hello?” he tried.

The kitty hissed and Chris impercetibly jolted in place, blinking a few times. 

“It means she likes you,” you explained. 

“Oh, really? Like owner like cat, I guess,” he gave you another glance. 

Your eyelids dropped at the comparison as if a bit annoyed but not surprised. The glint of amusement didn’t disappear from your eyes though, so Chris was glad to understand he didn’t particularly cross any boundary. Besides staring at your legs. 

“She doesn’t bite by the way. No worries.” 

“I don’t mind a little kitty scratch,” Chris replied. 

You stared him down for the second time, as if that information renewed your curiosity about him. Or maybe you were just making sure if he actually looked like able to survive a cat attack or not. Or handle your scratches. 

“Can I pet her? Your kitty,” he asked. 

Your gaze went back to his face. The little innuendo banter didn’t go unnoticed to you. He wondered if that was going to be the boundary that would make you snap. 

“Too early. She needs time to warm up to you,” you simply said. 

Chris nodded. “Of course.” 

He went inside and placed the kitty near the living room window to have both sun and shade. Not that cats were plants by any means, but he never owned one. 

Then he realized he didn’t even ask your name or get any kind of information as he planned. 

Maybe he wasn’t that good of a diplomat as he thought. 

___

You sat down on the plastic covered couch as the last man exited the apartment and you stared at the myriad of boxes in front of you. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, one hand to rub at your temples. You wished you could still have the keys to your old place for the night. You weren’t in the mood to make your bed. Maybe you were going to sleep on the couch, still dressed and makeup on and stuff. 

Then you remembered Nyx. 

The neighbour opened the door after a few seconds. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “Figured it was you.” 

“Hey,” you said back, a bit awkwardly crossing your arms on your chest. “Thank you for taking care of Nyx,” you added. 

The man took a step back as to invite you in. “It was honestly a pleasure. I realized I really enjoy cats.” 

You thought for a second if you should actually get in or just ask him to go grab her and leave. But then you saw Nyx sprawled on his couch, paws in the air and all, and a smile bloomed on your face. 

“You should not have let her out. She probably left so much hair around,” you took of your heels and walked towards her. His living room rug felt very soft under your toes and you made a mental note to ask him where he got it so you could plagiarize the choice. 

The man closed the door behind you and walked the same route, sitting on the couch arm and staring at Nyx with a genuinely fond smile. 

“I do not mind hair at all.” 

You knew he didn’t mean it in a dirty innuendo way that time. 

Nyx purred happily against your hand as you pet her. “Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered. 

“Wait, stay. I am in the middle of making dinner. I’m sure you got nothing to eat today,” the man got back on his feet and indicated towards the kitchen. 

You got up from the crouching position. “Thank you. But I was thinking I could order something. It’s fine.” 

He bit his lower lip as if wondering if your refusal was politeness or if you hated him and wanted to just go home. You realized he was lowkey cute conflicted that way and you chuckled. 

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, the smile already blooming on his face as well. 

“What are you making?” you ignored him. “Chicken breast and rice?” 

The man smiled again with a hum. “Oh, so you think I look fit although that comment feels a bit insulting.” 

You chuckled again shaking your head in disbelief. 

“Well, it’s not chicken breast tonight but if you want that come over any meal of the day besides Friday night and I’ll probably serve you that,” he continued. 

“Okay, noted. We’ll see each other only on Friday nights.”

“It’s noodle soup,” he finally answered. “And I think it’s ready.” 

You watched his large shoulders as he walked towards the kitchen to check on it. 

___

Your silence told Chris that you considered noodle soup a decent meal and he hoped it was decent. He wasn’t a great cook but his food was alright enough to not make him die and for the longest time he thought that was a decent level of skill. Now, seeing the spoon inching towards your mouth he really wanted the food to actually taste good. 

“You don’t have to stare at me like that. I won’t die,” you lifted your gaze on him. 

Chris exhaled at the tension. “I’m just worried.” 

You smiled. “I can see that. I’m sure it’s more than okay.” 

The reassurance didn’t help ease his nervousness. 

He lifted one eyebrow, teeth gritting as he stared at the way you gently slurped on the soup then had a mouthful of noodles right after. 

Your cheeks puffed a little as you chewed and the view made him smile for a moment before he remembered you were about to communicate your review. He got nervous again.

You swallowed and nodded. “Good.” 

Chris blinked. “Good?” 

You hummed. 

“That’s it?”

You scoffed incredulous.

“I’m joking I’m joking,” he chuckled and grabbed his own chopsticks. 

It went quiet for the next moments but Chris didn’t feel awkward. Nyx was rubbing herself on both of your calves and the way your eyes would soften looking down at her, with that little eyebrow lift and the sweet voice made Chris feel some type of way. 

“Thank you for the meal and taking care of her,” you said and Chris waved his hand as his mouth was full. 

“No need to thank me,” he replied after gulping. 

“What’s your favourite food?” you asked after some more silence. Small talk huh?

Chris looked towards an imaginary point, thinking. “I like pretty much anything.” 

“Okay, then next Friday you’ll eat whatever I’ll give you.”

He locked eyes with you as you reached for the glass of water and had a sip. The silence engulfed you again. 

God, he felt like leaning on the table and biting your lower lip with his teeth and he didn’t even know your name. 

___

The following days passed quickly as you worked full time and came home to a disastrous apartment still filled with boxes. You could swear you’d get rid of 10 and 20 appeared in their place. 

You were sighing, absentmindedly rubbing your lower back while the other arm was trying to carry a few flat packed boxes you managed to empty that evening. 

You weren’t sure of the time but the young woman walking towards your neighbour’s door in what seemed like a night booty call told you it was probably pretty late. She was gorgeous and you had to force yourself to look away and close your mouth as she gave you a small smiling nod, passing you by and engulfing you in a dizzying perfume. You walked quickly towards the elevator in your indoors duck slippers, not in the mood to make eye contact with the man who took care of your kitty (actual cat) and fed you last week as he’d open the door to let the woman in. 

It was Thursday and you realized with a certain degree of embarassment that you have been looking forward the Firday night dinner since the moment you left his apartment after that noodle soup date. 

You couldn’t understand why the sight of that woman could make you feel that uneasy and you hated yourself for the speed of your brain trying to make up excuses as to why suddenly you wouldn’t be free anymore the following day. 

When you came back up the woman was presumably inside already, probably sipping some fancy wine from a fancy glass with toes in the fancy carpet the man had - that apartment complex was for wealthy people, you weren’t stupid to guess the neighbour man was pretty well off as well - or perhaps already bent over the same table you sat at the previous week. 

The quiet of your apartment got disrupted by a single thud, like something falling on the ground, or well, a bed frame hitting the wall as someone throws themselves on it - or gets thrown. 

Suddenly you felt like wearing your coat and shoes, and after giving Nyx a little head kiss, you exited the apartment again for a weird urge to buy a night snack from the corner shop. 

___

“Working this late?”

A deep voice made you snap your head upwards, your fingers stopped in front of the door pad as you were about to type your password. 

The neighbour was bringing out dirty laundry, you realized, and you wondered if he intended to wash the bedding right after the woman left. The thought was a bit ridiculous and it put you in a bit of a better mood. 

“No. I went out for a corner shop trip,” you explained and the man blinked as if finally realizing you were wearing pajama pants under your coat and your hair didn’t look work appropriate. The plastic bag in your hand was also still full of the snacks you didn’t have any appetite to eat while counting minutes sitting at the white and cheap tables outside the shop wondering how come time goes by fast when you have sex but it’s so slow when others have sex. 

“Got any good snacks?” he asked just to fill in the silence, you figured. 

You hummed as a reply. “Laundry this late?” you asked in return. 

The man looked down at the basket in his arms as if he forgot he was was carrying it. “Oh. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get productive instead.” 

Good excuse, you gave him that. 

“Well, have fun, then,” you pushed the front door in, waving a hand. The man gave you a little square smile, making his dimples pop. “Good snacking.” 

You closed the door then for some reason turned around, staring at him through the peephole as he walked towards the elevator. 

___

Chris loaded the washing machine with an empty head. He didn’t think much about the one night stand. It has been a normal, not the best, but satisfactory one night stand. Just the usual. He’d normally work a bit or go to sleep after the person would leave - this time he was doing laundry. All standard stuff. 

But then he saw you and he felt a weird lump in his throat, as if he got caught red handed. 

Maybe it was because his date left minutes prior and he was still a bit disoriented, or maybe it was your nighttime look, the youthful but tired expression on your face with no make-up on, or maybe the sleepy eyes you had. 

Or maybe it was the impression that you left your house on purpose. 

He couldn’t recall if he made the woman loud enough for you to hear anything and his bed technically should not creak, but he wasn’t fully sure because he was too - well, busy - to analyse that in the moment. 

He scratched his head, staring at the way the washing machine slowly started to hum. 

___

You wanted to pretend like you somehow forgot about the dinner. 

Of course, you didn’t. And honestly it would have been rude to. 

Somehow you were hoping that he forgot about it. 

It was a random invitation anyway, a joke. You didn’t give him a specific time frame. He didn’t even confirm that he’d come. 

Somehow you were hoping that he didn’t forget about it. 

And if he did, should you just go and knock on his door to say hey so are you coming over or what?

You shook your head, stirring the pasta sauce with a shiver down your spine. That would be- it would be- you couldn’t even think of a proper word for that feeling. Somewhat along the lines of humiliating. 

Or would that be cool? Just knock knock hey, I have dinner. 

You sighed, tapping the wooden spoon on the side of the pan before placing it down on a plate. 

Why were you getting so worked up over a damn dinner with some random neighbour? 

What if he had plans Friday night, anyway? He looked like he could be a busy and sociable man. 

You sighed again, looking around the apartment which you deep cleaned. Then you stared at the abundant portion of pasta boiling gently. 

God, you didn’t even know his name. 

___

Chris looked in the mirror hung near the entrance door for the last time. He felt stupid. And his hair wasn’t cooperating. 

He wondered if you’d think he only wears the same black shirt all the time so he wore a black shirt with a different logo to convey the message that he changes clothes like a normal human being. Not that it mattered. 

He was ashamed to admit that he has been lowkey pacing the apartment for a bit that day, brainstorming solutions for the weird up in the air dinner invitation. He should have asked for confirmation last night. 

What if it was a mere joke? A random polite made up phrase in the let’s go out for coffee sometime category? 

But what if you were waiting for him? He needed a back up plan in case he showed up and you’d blankly stare at him with no dinner prepared. 

He felt very stupid. 

And he was glad you couldn’t see the way he jumped in place and felt his heart fall down to his ass when he heard the doorbell. 

“Hey,” he opened. 

“Hello,” you lifted your gaze. 

Were you a bit- nervous? 

“I came by just in case you forgot- well, not that you’d forget, but just in case I wasn’t clear enough about the dinner invitation, but, of course, if you made other plans in the meantime and you’re not free anymore or if you’ve already eaten then-”

“I was on my way to come over,” he gently interrupted your rambling. You unclasped your hands and put them behind your back at that information. You relaxed. 

“Oh,” you smiled, “well, then. I made pasta. Hope it’s okay.” 

___

“Hello, baby,” the neighbour giggled entering your apartment. He placed the wine bottle he prepared - sign he really didn’t forget, you were relieved to notice - on the floor and knelt down as Nyx lazily strutted towards him and rubbed her head then back on his hand. “I really missed you.” 

You walked towards the kitchen to grab the food. 

“You can come over and see her whenever you want to. I somehow feel like she missed you too.” 

The man got up and walked the distance towards the arranged table, placing the bottle on it. “Did she?” 

His tone was low and you wondered if he talked like that to his last night date. Or maybe he could do worse? More? How deep could his voice go? 

“Yeah. I guess you have good vibes,” you complimented him. 

He eyed the pasta you were carrying and he whistled impressed. 

“Definitely better than my noodle soup.” 

“Well, let’s see about that,” you gave him a look. 

“You don’t seem like you’re bad at something,” he watched you serve him while sitting down. 

“Perhaps this is the only thing I’m bad at,” you murmured back. 

For some reason, maybe the ambient lights, or the closeness of your plates, maybe the way the shadows on his face looked accentuating his jaw, or maybe his gaze, compelled you to talk softly. 

The neighbour liked your reply and gave you a smile, those languid smiles with one corner lifted more than the other. 

You served yourself and sat down. 

Your gazes met again and that was his cue to taste and review. You could understand why he was nervous last week. 

“Hmmm,” he simply replied after a long long chewing moment. 

You lifted one eyebrow. “Hmmm?” 

He chuckled. “You must be so curious to know. I want to keep you waiting some more. It’s fun.” 

You scoffed amused, taking a sip of water. “Well, I won’t beg for any comment, if that’s your plan.” 

Did he do this with his date too? Edging her as she looked eager for a single touch? Or did he edge her when she was about to orgasm in his arms? Did she beg? Was he capable of making a woman beg?

Well, you were close to say please is this good or not I’m going to go insane, any moment now so probably he was more than capable of doing that. 

“It’s very good,” he finally said with a proud expression, seeing your shaking and annoyed leg under the table. “I really like it.” 

“Hmmm,” you weren’t fully pleased, but you tasted the pasta too and you let the smile bloomed on your lips warm up the space between you. 

___

It was a bit too spicy for him, Chris realized after eating half the plate. But he wasn’t just going to back away. Maybe that was a test. Do you only entertain men who can handle the spice? Well, he was going to finish the plate and ask for more.

“Your apartment is coming up nicely,” he commented after a moment of silence. The bottle was almost empty and he really liked the light in your eyes because of the glass you were sipping from. 

You looked around as if staring at it from his perspective. “Still a long way to go but I am pleased with it so far.” 

“It’s curious. We have specular apartments.” 

Chris made a mental note to remember that you were probably sleeping head to head. Maybe he was too loud last night. Did you mind? Was the noise bothersome? Did you even hear? Somehow he wished you did. 

“I met with your girlfriend last night in the corridor,” you casually thew it out there as if reading his mind. 

So you met. 

He knew that you knew she wasn’t his girlfriend. You just wanted confirmation, didn’t you? 

It made his fingers tingle. He had a sip of his wine. 

“Did you talk?” he simply asked. 

He felt a bit cruel seeing the faint shadow of something in your eyes. And he felt even more cruel because he loved it. 

“No, just said hi.” You had a sip of your wine. 

Should he drag it some more?

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Chris finally said. 

___

The relief that washed over you made you cringe. You pretended to be a bit surprised. Not too much. A bit disinterested. Neutral. 

“Oh,” you just said, unsure of how people replied to something like that. Questions roamed your head? Why not? Do you have another person you’re interested in? Are you too busy for a committed relationship? Was she not your type? Are you still not over your ex? Are you some kind of fuckboy?

But none felt appropriate. 

“Do you have a partner?” 

He took you by surprise. “No,” you replied. “I am too busy I guess.” 

The neighbour leaned back in his chair, his fingers lazily making the glass leg roll. 

“Can I ask what you do?” 

You rested your face in your palm. “You can ask me whatever you want.” 

The man smiled. 

“I’m an Executive Director,” you continued. 

He smiled more widely. “Of course you are.” 

“What does that mean?” you leaned in with a giggle. 

The man shrugged. “You said you wouldn’t beg. Also you look like someone who doesn’t take orders, you give them.” 

You relaxed in your chair as well, arms thoughtfully crossed on your chest, taking in the information. You were sure you didn’t look like that but you accepted the compliment. 

“Also, you live in this luxury apartment complex,” he added as if that could make his reasoning more rational and less rooted in his will to compliment you. 

You nodded with an amused expression. “Well, and what do you do? Since you also live in this apartment complex?” 

The man stretched his arms and back. “I’m self employed.” 

You tilted your head to the side waiting for more information.

“I’m just a music producer.” 

Somehow it wasn’t surprising. You nodded. “Why ‘just’? That’s very impressive.” 

“Well, it’s not more impressive than your job,” he replied. 

“Knowing the C major scale is already very impressive, what are you talking about?” 

The neighbour blinked a few times then gently threw his head back in a bright laugh. You stared at his closed eyes. Then his perfect teeth. Then his dimples and the earrings shaking a bit in his ears. His neck was extended and it just exposed further the chicken and rice body he was farming. Gorgeous, although it made you a little sad and you hoped he was eating well. Not that you cared for a stranger. You didn’t care at all. You didn’t care-

He opened his eyes again and your gazes met. 

You didn’t care? 

___

Chris was confused. He discovered everything he initially needed for his nosy spirit. But somehow it wasn’t enough and with every question he asked, a new question came to mind. Your family? Siblings? How old is Nyx? Did you have other pets before? Why did you move? What did you study? 

You were polite and answered each and every one of them, exchanging the favour of asking him the same back. How long has he been producing? Was it hard? Are his songs popular? Oh, you probably heard some of them around? No way, you made that song?? 

Chris was very confused, especially since it was very late and he was exhausted, yet he didn’t want to move his ass from the damn chair and go home. 

But then you hid a little yawn and he realized he should probably just go. He thanked you again for the dinner. Should he ask you out for the next Friday?

But you perhaps just wanted to repay him the favour. Booking you for three Fridays in a row would have been too much, he figured. You looked like a busy and sociable woman. 

He was outside your door and you smiled at him seeing him out although he only had to take a few steps towards his own apartment. 

“Well, goodnight-” he kept that phrase suspended. 

You blinked at him.

“Y/N,” you finally said with a little smile.

He repeated your name. 

“Goodnight-” you replied. 

“Chris,” he added. 

“Goodnight Chris.” 

___

Chris felt like a pervert. No, worse. He felt like a stalker. Was it weird that he memorized the time you’d go to work and the time you came back? He didn’t try to, for real. It just happened. He’d hear your morning alarm at 7am and the way your shower ran ten minutes afterwards. Then a pause, he figured you prepared breakfast and got dressed. Then the sound of your hairdryer or whatever you did to your hair, he wasn’t fully sure. Then another pause. He liked to imagine you were putting on some makeup. His 7am brain has been busy imagining you putting on bright red lipstick, gently bent over your sink to see yourself better in the mirror, although he fully knew you would never wear that kind of lipstick to work. 

Then the sound of the door closing. It wasn’t a loud bang, you were considerate, but Chris had good hearing. 

He’d sleep late in the mornings usually. But your routine influenced him. So his routine became waking up at 7am with you, listen to your movements, then after you’d be gone, he’d also get up and go about his day. 

Was this normal neighbour behaviour? He wasn’t sure. He’s never had one before you. 

During the day he wouldn’t think of you at all. Maybe once in a while. 

And then he’d hear the sound of your door opening and closing. Nyx’s meow as she’d welcome you and your muffled far away baby talk, probably calling her my love and other nicknames Chris low-key wanted to hear directed at himself. 

He wouldn’t listen to you after that, he was a busy man afterwards, and he didn’t want to be a full-on creep.

But he knew you’d get in bed at around 10pm so he started to go as well. Not to sleep, he could hear the sound of the Tik Toks you were watching or the movie you’d put on. Sometimes it would be silent and he was dying of curiousity to know what were you doing. Reading? Puzzles? Listening to music over earphones? 

One night it was particularly quiet, maybe you fell asleep, and Chris was about to grab his laptop and do some work when he heard a low buzz. 

It was so faint that the wondered if he was just imagining it. Maybe his dirty mind was just trying to fill in his brain with images of what he’d secretly desire you to be doing. But no, it was there. He fought the urge to place his ear on the wall like a total loser and ignored it for the night, blasting music in his ears instead. 

But then it happened again the following night and Chris sighed, heat travelling down his abdomen. He scratched his ear then nape. Then he huffed, closing the laptop and putting it on the side. He didn’t want to listen but he couldn’t push himself to not listen either. He was just curious, he told himself. Also, it wasn’t his fault you were masturbating in the head to head bedrooms you guys had and it wasn’t his fault that the walls weren’t particularly thick for a luxury apartment complex. 

But he wasn’t curious only about the buzz. 

Well, yes. He wondered what kind of toy could that be. Was it small? Was it internal or external? Was it a vibrating dildo or a clit sucking device? 

But no, not really. He was more curious about the sounds you’d make. Were you a noisy person? Would you be loud or muffle your voice into the pillow? What position were you in? 

God, he felt like a pervert. It wasn’t his fault you were masturbating but it was his fault for listening like that and imagining. 

He reached for the headphones when the first noise arrived. He froze, fingers in mid air. 

The noises increased in number and volume. Whimpers and moans. 

He let his hand fall on the bed and he dug the nails into the covers ever so slightly. 

He blinked, eyes towards the ceiling, your eyes probably rolled back in your head. Was that good? You were probably swallowing that toy so well, all wet and warm. He exhaled. 

Like a reply, you kept moaning. He shivered, a single shiver coming from his toes up his scalp. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened again. 

It was no surprise that he was hard. He wasn’t particularly dressed either so he couldn’t even lie to himself and say that he didn’t notice. 

“Shit,” he mumbled out loud, passing one hand in his dark curls, then on his face. It stopped on his chest, where it buzzed with self restraintful force. 

No, he wasn’t going to rub one out to the sound of his neighbour. He was not going to do that. 

But you sounded so good although muffled, and the universe gifted him with too much imagination for his own good. His hand moved on its own on his flinching stomach going over the short trimmed hair and he exhaled as if he has not been breathing for the past minutes.

Oh, it felt better than usual. He was way past teenage years but with the way the precum leaked on his fingers, the thumb collecting it, he felt like a virgin masturbating for the first time. His adam apple traveled up and down his throat and he closed his eyes, pushing the head into the pillow, trying to pace the movement of his hand with the rhythm of your moans. He’s never felt dirtier and it went so quick to his head that he didn’t need much. With a groan then a higher pitched whimper he came messily on his stomach, some of it reaching his chest. Your moans increased in the same moment and Chris thought he was going to go insane, imagining you sprawled and shaking because of your own orgasm. 

If he came so quickly like that, what was he going to do if you were in his arms?

___

It has been a few horny days, you realized as your hand automatically reached for he drawer on your right. Then you stopped. You felt a bit tired of your toys and that month’s ovulation felt too intense for you to keep using them. 

Somehow, well, somehow you wanted the real deal. Should you go out? Go back on Tinder? 

You sighed and crossed your arms on your chest, eyebrows furrowed staring at the ceiling. 

Fuck it, you got up, throwing the duvet on one side. 

It has been too long since you went outside or dressed up. Hell, it has been too long since you actually fucked someone, and although you mastered your own shit down to a notch, you really missed human contact. Perhaps you were very lonely and not even that horny. 

The dress was on, heels were worn, hair done and your girlfriends complimented your makeup. The night seemed promising. 

The man you eyed a few hours into the night wasn’t that bad either. Decent height, good breath, normal man cologne, and the alcohol in your system did the rest. You didn’t even need to hear him talk or anything. You brought him home and got down to business. 

You tried, really.

And the poor dude probably also tried a lot.

But nothing could beat the way you felt on your own, thinking about your neighbour Chris with a toy buried deep inside of you pretending it was him. 

___

Chris decided he wasn’t going to be creepy that night. He wondered what was going on in your life to make you masturbate that much every night. It was completely normal but he usually masturbated mostly because of stress so he couldn’t help but ask himself if you were also very stressed or if the job was talking a toll on you. 

Maybe he could go over and check, maybe with the excuse to see Nyx. The evil part inside of him wanted to go over the moment you started to touch yourself, just so he could interrupt and force you to come to the door, maybe all heated up, maybe a bit pissed at him. He wanted to see your annoyed expression at the fact you couldn’t finish. He wanted you to be so pissed and horny to just slam him into the damn door and find relief through his body. Chris didn’t want anything back. He could have just watched the way you sit on his thigh and ride it, head thrown back and your nails digging into his shoulders. He could be completely content just to stare at the way your breasts moved gently, not as hard as if you were to ride his cock, but almost. He really wanted to see your frustratred expression as rocking on his thigh would not be enough for you so you’d stare at him frantically, begging with your eyes for more, because you’d never beg with your words. Chris would pretend he doesn’t understand just to see you even more impatient. Even more eager. Perhaps he could drive you to the point of pushing him down the couch and sitting on his face. 

The slam against the wall made him open his eyes. That wasn’t a familiar sound. The second thud made his lift one eyebrow. Were you renovating the bedroom? 

But then a male grunt made his boiling blood chill in one second. 

You had guests. 

You had guests who were probably slamming into you given the sheer intensity of your sudden moans. 

___

“Busy and enjoyable night?” 

You looked to your right where a man was loading his own washing mashine. He wasn’t looking at you but no one was around so you knew he was talking to you. You took a moment to stare at his profile, the perfect flinching jaw muscle the only detail showing his emotions, whatever they were, on his otherwise calm face. 

“I guess you can say so,” you answered, a bit embarassed. “Was I too noisy?” 

“I wasn’t sleeping so I didn’t mind the noise,” Chris finally looked at you. He was very casual about it. 

“The fact you were awake,” you threw some other clothes in the washing machine, “makes it all somehow worse. I am sorry you had to hear all that.” You hoped he didn’t see the bed sheets you were washing but if he heard you the whole night it was probably useless to hide it. 

You gave him a small smile and he imitated you. You looked as if exchanging opinions on the weather instead of commenting on your one night stand. 

“I was working, so big loud earphones on. Didn’t hear much.” 

Although he made sure to say that, you couldn’t fully trust him. The way he even started that conversation in the first place instead of pretending to not have heard anything, as it would have been polite to, was as if he wanted you to know he heard. 

But instead of feeling shame, the situation just made your blood run faster. He heard you. He heard your moans. Was he even a bit turned on? Or maybe just pissed because you ruined his night? 

“To answer your full question, busy yes, enjoyable?” you trailed off, closing the washing mashine and staring at the way the clothes started to lazily twirl around. 

“not much,” you finished. 

Chris was also done and he was grabbing the hamper. His eyes looked like two cuts under his curly fringe. You wondered if his hair was soft as it looked. The dude’s hair wasn’t that soft and when he went down on you and you grabbed it, your mind couldn’t help but imagine Chris’ curls instead. 

He was waiting for more information. 

“Didn’t make me cum once,” you shrugged and didn’t give him any time to comment on it, leaving for the stairs instead. 

___

Chris turned his head to watch your back disappear behind the corner. His gaze trailed down on your ass then legs. 

He exhaled through his nose. 

Why was he annoyed? 

Because you fucked someone? Or because you didn’t get fucked well enough the way you deserved? 

Your perfume was lingering in the air as he made his way up on the stairs as well and he waited the same elevator you took. The image of you getting railed into the mattress didn’t leave his mind for a minute since last night. But he knew that no fantasy of his could get close to reality, seeing you in your skimmy pajamas that morning. Your hair, the exposed delicate skin, the curve of your neck, your lazy amused voice. 

Chris gulped once as he entered the elevator. He pictured taking you against that wall. Or maybe, against the damn mirror, so you could see your expression as your knees would give up from the sheer intensity of the orgasm he’d give you. 

But he couldn’t fully blame the guy. Chris wasn’t that confident either and he was sure no man could prevent cumming in his pants in seconds if you were sprawled on the bed underneath him. 

What the guy had to be blamed for is that he had the opportunity to pleasure the most incredible woman Chris knew, and he failed completely. 

He was sure you won’t see him again, but if the dude came around the second time Chris thought he could break his fingers, that way maybe he could remind him they exist and can be used. 

He exhaled through his nose again when the elevator communicated with a ding that it arrived on the right floor. 

You were waiting for him and Chris stopped in his tracks for a moment, before walking up to you. 

His gaze fell on the plate your were holding. 

“Made some pie,” you smiled. Your eyes were shining a bit. If that was your expression when embarrassed then he really wanted to find ways to make you shy again. 

“Take it as a token of my sorry I made you listen to me moan at 2am,” you added. 

“You really don’t have to feel sorry about it,” Chris smiled back but he really wanted the plate, the hamper down at his feet already to free his hands.

“Well, you clearly wanted something from me by mentioning it,” your eyes shone again. Yes, that was your embarrassed expression, but there was something more to you, he realized. Malice. 

Chris didn’t confirm nor denied. “I will enjoy it, thank you,” he simply replied, your fingers touching as he grabbed the pie. Your hands were a bit cold and a shiver went down his spine, imagining those fingers trailing down his body until they would warm up on his skin. 

“I hope you do,” you said then turned around, disappearing behind your apartment door. 

Chris put down the pie on his kitchen table then looked down at his hand which was still faintly burning from your cold touch. 

He hummed and closed his eyes, sliding it under his waistband. He fucked his fist harder and rougher than usual. 

___

You realized finding human contact wasn’t that satisfactory after all, so you huffed that night and after a short tik tok trip you reached for your drawer. 

Then you changed your mind. Could you just do with manual that night? It would take more time but you somehow were in the mood to be a bit frustrated physically so that the emotional frustration could be drowned instead. 

You relaxed into your pillow and the realization that Chris was probably on his bed in the same position made you bit your lower lip. Your delusions made you think he was a bit upset that morning because he was jealous but then again, if he wanted to he would, right? So he probably didn’t want to. 

That thought took you out of the horniness you were slipping into and brought a little of sadness instead. 

Hell, he’s never even asked for your phone number. Not even as a neighbour. Weren’t you at least supposed to talk about hot water and the trash bins?

No, you weren’t horny anymore. You were pissed. 

But you didn’t need Chris to masturbate. 

You could just do it as usual. You didn’t need to imagine his palms on you. Nor his veiny forearms. Definitely not his pillowy and pink lips, dragging down your skin. 

Your first whimper took even you by surprise but you couldn’t stop. Not when the image of Chris’ face between your thighs was burning inside your closed eyelids. Would he be gentle? Would he be rough? The only thing you were sure of was the way his velvety and wet tongue would feel like. Would he grunt while eating you out? Would he moan, desperately trying to find relief in the friction with the mattress? 

Oh that was a good image. 

That was such a good image that your toes curled and your fingers picked up the pace. Was he a head pusher? Or was he a good boy waiting for you to please him with your mouth the way you wanted to?

You moaned louder. 

You were so close. So so so fucking close.

And then the knock on the door made your legs shake in frustration. You opened your eyes, fingers still deep inside of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. If the person didn’t leave in the next second you’d lose that goddam orgasm. 

The person knocked again. 

Fuck. 

Brain hazy with murderous intent and anger you didn’t even consider that the only person to be able to get inside the building and knock instead of ringing the outside bell was your neighbour. 

“Hey ya,” Chris smiled, lifting one plastic bag. It clinked and you figured it was beer. 

___

Chris ruffled his hair at the whimpers. 

He couldn’t go on like that anymore. The evil plan to well, edge? no, cockblock you and your toy? yeah, sounded too evil for him. But after you careless display of noise with the dude the previous night he though you deserved it. 

At the second louder whimper he was already outside, all of the beer he accumulated in his fridge in a bag and the poor excuse of hey im bored and I wanted to see Nyx, well, I wanted to see you as well.

“...I hope I am not interrupting anything,” he repeated the phrase and completed it after you opened the door. 

You were a mess, a complete mess. Your eyes were shining and he could tell you were boiling hot from the effort of fucking yourself and probably from the anger of being interrupted. 

He loved it. 

“No, I was- uh,” you took some steps backwards and sideways to welcome him inside. “Working out,” you finished. 

Nyx came meowing towards him and he knelt down, taking her in his arms. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing didn’t leave anything to the imagination and you wondered if he also has been working out - actually working out - prior coming to have those huge and pumped biceps. 

“Hello, hello,” he nuzzled his nose into Nyx’s and you smiled a little, taking the beer bag and putting it down on the low coffee table you added to the decor some days ago. 

“Working out?” you heard him ask after a cuddling moment with your kitty (the real cat). 

“Yeah,” you turned around, one hand on your lower back, one to scratch your forehead. “You know,” you shrugged, “Youtube pilates and such.” 

Chris nodded, joining you near the couch and letting Nyx down. 

“That’s great. I’ve never tried Pilates before.” 

“Are you flexible?” 

He thought about it. “A decent amount. Not too much I guess, though? Are you?” 

You gulped at the question, your brain still hazy witht he images your dirty mind created for you some minutes ago. 

“Yes? I think so,” you sat down. 

He hummed as if your frantic state amused him. Well, you were probably very amusing to look at. A whole mess. And you wondered why he didn’t give you his number? Yeah. 

He looked around and you thought it was because he wanted to comment on the new decor. “Do you not use any mat?” 

You were starstruck. “A mat?” 

Chris looked at you. “Mat.” 

“Oh, it’s uh, in my bedroom.” 

He nodded. 

“Do you just go to the gym?” you really wanted to move the subject away from you. 

He leaned forward to grab the bag and take out two beers. 

“Yup. I do mostly weights.” 

“Of course,” you commented. 

Chris opened the bottles of beer on each other - which you actually found sexy - and handed you one. You jolted in place when you felt the cold glass on the back of your hand. 

“You seem very jumpy? Is everything okay?” he murmured. 

You took the bottle and chugged. “Yes.” 

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was talking, something interesting even, but you couldn’t concentrate. You didn’t know if it was the fact you’ve been masturbating to the thought of him ten minutes ago, or if he somehow was more fine than usual that night, or if you just were getting heated up because of the beer you kept downing like water, but you really wanted to just jump on him. 

He kept moving on the couch, backwards, forwards, side, adjusting his hair, his shorts. He was pissing you off because your eyes were forced to glue on either his arms, or his rib muscles, or his hands, or his lips, or his eyes, or his jaw, or his-

“Right?” he asked again. 

“Huh?” you woke up. 

Chris chuckled. “Where are you?” 

“I am here,” you replied, hand moving the bottle to your mouth in an already repetitive movement. 

Chris stopped the bottle by placing his hand on top of yours. 

“What are you doing?” you asked. 

He opened his mouth. 

Chris smiled. “It’s empty.” 

You looked down and you realized it was indeed missing any beer. But you couldn’t let go because his hand was still holding yours. 

You looked at him. “Can I have another one?” 

His eyes analyzed your features as if to understand if you were drunk or not. Perhaps he decided that you weren’t. “Yes,” he replied. 

You waited. 

He didn’t move his hand. 

“Then let go?” you tried. 

Chris let his fingers slide down the back of your hand then forearm before leaning in and grabbing the full bottle on the table in front of you. 

The swif of his cologne made you swallow dryly. He was so close. He was too close. He was too close for your tipsy and horny brain. 

His touch, the second time, gave you goosebumps and, fuck, he noticed. His gazed trailed your nude arms as he exchanged the bottles in your hand and your gaze was on his face. So you noticed the languid look on it, as he slowly traced your skin with the fingertip of his ring finger, from elbow to shoulder. 

You shivered and the goosebumps got more severe.

“You’re very sensitive,” he murmured. 

___

He was having fun. 

He was having so much fucking fun. 

You eyes looked wide, staring down his finger touching your skin like that. Your quivering eyes, your trembling lower lip, your quick breath. Was he being too evil? 

He touched your beer with his and took a sip. 

The sound woke you from your trance and you imitated him, licking the opening of the bottle with your tongue for a moment before pressing your lips into it to drink. 

Was that a habit of yours or were you also set on making him go crazy that night?

“What were you talking about before?” you resumed the conversation.

Chris chuckled. “So you weren’t listening.” 

You lifted your legs on the couch to sit on them. Your knees was touching his thigh and he leaned into it instead of moving away. He was as close as to rest his arm on your legs. Perhaps he should do that. 

“I got lost, sorry,” you smiled back. 

Chris took another sip and indeed rested his arm on your legs. You didn’t flinch. 

But when his hand naturally cupped one of your knees, the nude thigh in your pajama shorts got covered in goosebumps again. 

His chuckle was bright as he laughed at you. “You’re very very sensitive.” 

You rolled your eyes with an amused scoff. “It’s normal. Everyone is like this.” 

“I am not,” he challenged you. 

Would you fall in the trap? 

Your eyes tightened in a knowing smile taking another sip. Perhaps you were drinking too much too quickly but he wasn’t going to be the boss of you. 

“I believe you,” you simply said.

Chris let his tongue poke his cheek in a visible display of disappointment and he loved the way you giggled. 

And when you suddenly dragged your nails on his bicep he was ashamed to realize he probably needed a pillow to cover his crotch. 

Of course you picked on that. Of course you had to. 

“Is this all it takes?” you voice got suddenly low and sensual, confident as you haven’t been that night. You were having fun now. 

Chris didn’t let himself lose. Not even when you reached his nape and you slowly played with the short hairs of his undercut. 

His gaze never broke the connection with yours. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been bricked up since I heared your whimpers on the other side of the wall.” 

Your hand stopped and your face fell. It wasn’t anger or annoyance. It wasn’t even shame as he thought. It was arousal and shock. Maybe even relief. 

Chris openes his mouth to add something else. Were you going to hit him?

And when you suddenly leaned in he was almost sure you were going to give him a good slap but he found the air knocked out of his lungs instead thanks to your lips of his. 

One second he was looking at you and the other he was grabbing your ass as your straddled his thighs. You hummed into the kiss and he imitated you, one palm to lift your shorts up and the other to rub at your back until reaching the back of your neck. 

You were soft and warm. So soft and warm and he wanted you closer to him so he pulled towards himself until he felt your body flush on his. His fingers frantically came in the front, to feel better what he was feeling with his chest, your braless breast, first on top of your shirt then, slowly, underneath it.

___

 You shivered and your broke the kiss to moan against his lips. His hands were warm and your breasts too tender. Your blood was buzzing like electricity under your skin and you desperately wanted Chris to touch every inch of it with whatever he wanted to - his body, his hands, his lips, his tongue. 

Chris, the neighbour. 

The neighbour that attached that damned plump lips to your neck now making you flutter your eyelashes. He wasn’t even doing that much. He wasn’t basically doing anything. Then why were you already moaning? Why were you feeling on the verge of shaking in his arms? Fuck, those arms that were wrapped around your waist, so huge and too strong for your own good. Would he throw you on the couch soon with those? You let your head fall back as he traveled down your throat, one hand to keep you in place, the other groping at the soft flesh of your ass. Then his mouth, his open wet and hot mouth, felt your cleavage and you couldn’t see anymore. 

You whispered his name, or you moaned it, you weren't sure, and you felt his hard cock flinch underneath you. You hummed, hands grabbing at his hair, pushing his fringe back to see his eyes. They were sharp looking up at you from the swell of your breasts. Just undress me already, you wanted to yell, but you knew he enjoyed taking his time with you. 

___

Chris needed all of his self control to not reach down and feel if you were as plump and wet as he imagined. He could tell you were on the verge to beg. You were almost there. He really really really wanted to hear your pretty voice use your polite words. Just a single please would be enough for him. So he waited. He let his tongue tease your hard nipples on top of the shirt, elliciting the sweetest moans from you and the way you rolled your eyes back made him wonder if that guy you fucked was completely clueless or if Chris was just too skilled.

But Chris could also tell he wouldn’t break you that easily the moment you let your hips down even more and rocked them once from the base of his cock to the tip. 

His throat growled without him wanting too and the sound made you pull his hair a bit to make him look at you. Your eyes were presenting a challenge and he smiled teasingly on top of your chest. 

Okay, he thought, and in a single movement your shirt was off of you and on the floor somewhere across the room. 

He thought having you half naked sitting on him would add to your mental fuckery but he didn’t take into consideration what the view would do to him. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, cupping your breasts as if seeing a pair for the first time. He gulped and looked back up right when you leaned in to kiss him deeply, arms around his neck and tongue inside his mouth. 

He lost it. He completely lost it, feeling your nude back with his knuckles, and you scent, god, it inebriated him so much that he was the one on the verge to beg you for something, anything, just fucking anything. 

___

You felt like mush. You felt like putty in his arms, like nothing. And when you broke off the kiss to breathe and he went back to torture your nipples, this time no fabric to rub on it but just his delicious and wet tongue on them, you felt like cumming. You actually felt like cumming. You felt like hiding your face and scream. It was already too much. It was already too much and you weren’t sure if you were thinking it or saying it out loud but Chris increased his pace, kitty licking your buds in ways that made you dig your nails into his shoulders. He didn’t even wince, he didn’t even care, teeth gently biting on the hard but tender skin and stretching it, before popping in as much as he could fit and suck until his dimples showed. 

Oh, it was sinful, the movement, the sound, your noises, his heavy breath, his cock so fucking hard right underneath you. You wanted more. You needed more, the begging word lingering on the tip of your tongue. 

“Shit,” you said instead, a high pitched and messy moan escaping your chest. Chris hummed deeply against your chest and his arms tightened around your body as you leaned forwards and felt your body spasm uncontrollably.  

You heard his chuckle from a haze as you slowly calmed down your breath. 

“Adding making woman cum just from nipple stimulation to my CV now,” he giggled, his pretty eyes right above your cleavage. You smiled, rolling your eyes. You couldn’t believe he was giggling after doing all that to you. 

“Stupid. It’s just my body being sensitive, as you said.” 

“And yet, that motherfucker didn’t make you cum even by accident,” his tone changed completely. 

His jealousy gave you butterflies - you were kinda ashamed to admit - and all you could do was leaning down to give him a smiley kiss, and it somehow tasted sweet and gentle. His cock didn’t feel sweet though and when he slowly pushed his hips upwards his tip bumped into your sensitive clit making you jolt. Then again, and again, until you had to let his plumped lips go and breathe on them instead. 

“Chris-” 

“Yeah?” he murmured back. 

You whined, foreheads pressing together. 

___

Chris thought he was going to just cream his pants. He thought that was it, that was the moment. Because besides creaming one’s pants, he didn’t think what other appropriate reaction one could have seeing you slide down from his legs onto your knees on the floor and rest your hands on his thighs with that needy expression of yours. 

“Oh, fuck,” he swallowed, one hand to messy his hair even more. 

The corner of your lips lifted in a confident and amused smile. “You think I can add making man cum just from rubbing his thighs in my CV?”

“Oh, I fucking think so,” Chris replied with somewhat of a choked and amused voice. Your warm palms were doing just as you said, touching him on top of his thin shorts, until reaching underneath them for a moment and feelin his boiling skin. The print of his cock was so obvious that you wondered if it was painful so you leaned down and just touched alongside of it with your nose, making his muscles twitch, then with your open mouth, warming him through the fabric. 

Chris let his head fall back for a moment, unable to keep his eyes open, then he looked back down, not wanting to lose a single movement of yours. 

You looked up at him from underneath your lashes and you smiled, almost purring, letting your tongue wet his shorts ever so slightly. 

“I know what you want,” he smiled with a heavy breath. 

Your head tilted to the side in a silent oh really?

He hummed. “But I don’t have issues with begging. So, please,” he added in a whisper, “please please I need to feel your mouth on me.” 

___

You felt a new wave of wetness pool inside your panties.

How could a man look so hot begging for it? He drove you crazy. You thought you were breaking him but he broke you instead.

He was pissing you off. He was pissing you off so badly. 

“Shirt off,” you lifted yourself and he chuckled, obeying you. The way he reached back and took it off by the collar made your knees weak and they weren’t strong in the first place. 

“Better?” he leaned back again.

You felt your head spin. You felt like about to choke on your breath or spit or just air. One couldn’t just look like that. 

So all you could do was just to lean in, tasting that immaculate skin with your lips on his neck, feeling his collarbones, then open mouth on his chest, then finally you bit the tender but firm skin right above his waistband, close to the few veins disappearing into his underwear. 

He exhaled deeply, then he inhaled sharply, and finally he whimpered, a single sound, sweet but husky. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to hear all of it. And when you felt satisfied with the mark you left on his pristine stomach, you grabbed his waistband and pulled. 

“Lift your hips for me, princess,” you smiled and Chris let out an incredulous offended giggle. 

Yet he did as you ordered, letting you take a moment to try and understand in which hole you could fit all of that. 

___

“I’m sure you could make me cum only by looking at it, but I would appreciate a little help too,” Chris let his hands caress your jaw and then he slowly dug them into your hair. 

You looked up at him then back down. “Shit,” you murmured, rubbing your thighs together. 

The movement didn’t go unnoticed to him and it just made his cock jump. You looked gorgeous. He thought you looked like a wet dream but none of his wet dreams looked that good. 

He exhaled with a groan as you finally let your tongue travel from the base up his tip, feeling the most prominent vein, until tasting the pre-cum. Then you grabbed it, lazily pumping as much as you could, tongue teasing his slit before swallowing half of it in one go and making him choke on air. 

“That’s- this is-” he mumbled, eyes fluttering and hands imperceptibly shaking. 

You hummed a question but just sucked not even letting him process anything else besides the feeling of your perfectly wet and warm mouth around him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers pulling on your hair a bit the moment you started to bob your head even lower until almost touching the base with your nose. The gag sounds made him dizzy and he relaxed the grip as you let his cock out with a gasp, some saliva strings attached to the tip. You broke them with your tongue and started to eagerly sucking on his tip again, lungs trying to take in as much air as you could before diving in again. 

Chris was a sinner but if that was what heaven felt like he thought he might start repenting soon. 

“You’re so fucking good,” he murmured with a husky voice. He was losing it completely just like the life you were sucking out of him. “So so so fucking good,” he let his head fall back again as you hummed pleased around his cock, the short eye contact making him close his eyes, feeling the pleasure pooling too quickly inside of him. You gagged again, this time for longer and your jaw relaxed, taking him deep inside your throat again and again and again until he pulled away, his thighs shaking and his breath completely irregular. 

You looked at him disappointed and a bit mad. “-m cumming, are you sure-” Chris explained with a broken voice and you huffed, taking him back inside your mouth and making him groan as if he was almost in pain. 

“Shit shit shit,” he repeated like a mantra, relasing so fast and so intensely that he almost missed the way your throat moved as you swallowed almost to the last drop, letting the last sprut land on your extended tongue instead and cheek. 

Chris exhaled as if he just finished running a marathon and relaxed his muscles. His fingers collected the drops of cum from your face and you smiled, grabbing his wrist with your hands and directed it towards your face. 

“God,” he gulped dryly, watching you suck on his fingers and coating them with your spit. The view was almost more erotic than the one he just witnesses and he wondered if he should add a third one inside your mouth to get them all ready for what he wanted to do next. 

___

One moment you were between his thick thighs, and the other you were staring at the ceiling, your back flush on the couch. 

You couldn’t make sense of when or how he grabbed you and pushed you into it, the only thing you could concentrate on being the feeling of his kisses on your stomach. 

And not only. The way his neck chain felt rubbing on your skin with every inch he touched with his mouth. And when you felt it, cold, sliding between your legs, you inhaled deeply, hands trying to reach and grab anything to anchor you to reality. But Chris grabbed your wrists and pinned them down to your sides. Then he pulled your shorts and underwear down your legs with a harsh pull. 

“No princess for me?” you joked, trying to fight the sudden feeling of being completely naked and very much open-legged in front of him. 

Chris leaned down until almost lying on you and you welcomed his naked body between your thighs, feeling how deliciously he started to get hard again only by pleasuring you. 

“Princess? But you want to be fucked like a whore, don’t you?” he teased your lower lip with his teeth and you whimpered at the sweet tone but dirty words. 

“Yeah?” he asked again, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, reaching for your ear and languidly tracing its shape with his tongue. 

You exhaled, caressing his wide back, feeling his muscles flex as he came back towards your mouth. 

“Words, princess,” his voice was husky and deep and you felt it in your chest going down to your core. 

“Yes, yeah,” you breathed out. Chris smiled pleased and the glint in his eyes got darker as he disappeared from your sight and pulled you by the hips towards his mouth. 

You felt like melting. You felt like melting and disappearing into his touch. 

Yeah, no, it was even better than you’ve imagined. You thought you knew how his velvety tongue would feel like but no, you didn’t. You had no fucking idea, not a single clue. And in that momen you realized you were so glad for not having a third neighbour because the way Chris got you moaning and swearing was probably unbearable. He just flicked your clit, and sucked on it, then kitty licked, then let his tongue flat on you, going down to collect all drops. Again and again. It was so dirty, it was so wet and sinful, it made you unable to keep your eyes open. He fucked you with his tongue, sliding it in with a groan, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better you felt his finger making space for itself. You gasped and stared down, catching a glimpse of Chris’ almost black eyes under his fringe, and the white of his teeth, like about to devour his prey. He pumped his finger in and out, tongue back to torture you, and when he added the second one and curved them towards the sweetest spots, your spine curved as well, and you frantically grabbed at whatever you could reach. Chris kept you down with the other arm, snaking it around your thigh and pressing his palm on your lower stomach. The pressure made you choke, heighteing the pleasure until something broke inside of you and you lost control of your own body and mind, shaking so violently that you couldn’t see anymore. You felt yourself clenching around his fingers rhythmically after another gasp of air, and you realized he was shushing you, lazily kissing your thigh, and whispering quiet praises.  

Then he came forwards, his bicep full and his forearm flexed keeping his body weight, the other hand still buried inside of you. 

You reached up and wiped his chin and lower lip and he smiled, catching it with his mouth and slowly sucking on it. 

The mewl that escaped your throat at the view made him chuckle so we wanted more, finally sliding his fingers out and shoving them inside your mouth. 

The kiss that came afterwards was slow and deep, your tastes mixing together in it, his body resting on top of yours, caging you down with his weight. 

___

Chris hasn’t felt that aroused in a very long time. Although your whole body was doing the conversation, your touch, your eyes, the way you’d pull him into the kiss, your legs around his waist, he really really wanted to hear you beg him for it, beg him for more, beg him to not stop. 

You didn’t stop kissing him and he was grateful for your almost identical apartments because eyes closed and hands busy groping at your ass as he carried you in his arms he had to only rely on his instincts to find the bedroom and drop you on the bed. The view of you sprawled on it the way he has imagined many times in the intimacy of his dark room made him exhale with his mouth and when you lifted one foot, gently rubbing it on his abdomen he lifted one amused eyebrow, desperately wanting to bite on you. So he did just that, trying to suck on the tender skin on your hip to get you a matching spot to the one you gave him. Your gentle but amused whimpers made his cock throb almost painfully and he lied fully on his stomach, his thumb lazily pressing into your clit in circular motions. Your body kept jolting ever so slightly as he peppered kisses all over your abdomen, still sensitive, and your hands in his hair made his spine shiver deliciously. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you. 

Slowly and deeply, just like the kiss he gave you, caging you under his body. 

He wanted to see your expression as he reached down and lined himself up to you. He wasn’t disappointed, the gasp you let out, feeling him slide inside of you mirroring his. 

Chris needed to close his eyes for a moment, lips rubbing on yours, and his nostrils filled with your perfume. 

And when he opened them, your blowned out pupils, your open wet lips, your eyebrows curved in a way that communicated lust and desire made him push himself in until a single choked sound escaped from your tender throat. He did it again, and again, slowly, making you feel every bit of him, stretching you out in ways that made you wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze with broken breath. 

___

It was overwhelming. So much and so full. But you needed more. You wanted him deeper. You wanted him everywhere. 

“Faster,” you whimpered, arms abandoned on the pillow you pushed your head into as he obeyed, snapping his hips into you. The louder moans filled the room and you extended your throat. Chris leaned down to bite on it, the sounds of his groans reverberating inside your chest. His hands reached yours, pulling them near the headboard and pinning them down, making you bite your lips at how you let yourself be fully to his mercy. He pushed his hand on your wrists more, the other sliding back down to your hips to keep you in place. 

The bed started to creak and the sheets wrinkled underneath your bodies. A thin layer of sweat shone on his silky skin and you desperately wanted to feel him. You tugged at his hand but he smirked, pressing you down again. 

A single disappointed mmh made space between your whimpers. 

He clicked his tongue. “You want to touch me?” 

The breathy yes visibly amused him too much. 

“Ask nicely,” he whispered on your lips, his hips never stopping to turn your brain into a mush. 

Your reply was a dry chuckle and he caught it with his mouth transforming it into a growl. 

“I see you’re not fucked up enough,” he said in a second your wrists were free, but so was your body as he got up on his knees, sliding out of you. 

Your whimper of protest at the sudden emptiness made him exhale satisfied.

“Come on,” you eyed him and his beautifully arrogant face. 

“What?” he turned his head to the side in that little play. His cock was heavy resting on you as he slowly slid it on top of your clit, not enough to give you any relief but enough to keep you on that edge he desperately wanted you to be on. 

You extended your arms, almost touching his chest, but he grabbed your wrists again keeping them together as he kept playing with you. 

“Say it,” he purred. Your hips twitched at that delicious torture. “Say what you want.” 

“I want you inside of me,” you opened your eyes. “I want you to make me cum,” you tried. Maybe you’d break him. Maybe you’d make him lose control. 

But he just smirked. “Yeah?” 

You hummed back, your fingers shaking in the air. 

“What else?” 

Your bit your lower lip. “Fuck, Chris-” you skin shivered. 

“Just say it, come on, and I’ll fuck you the way you want me to,” his tip teased your sensitive clit deliciously as a little taste of what he would be able to do to you. 

“Say it, baby,” he added and the petname threw you off completely, making you grit your teeth. 

“Please,” you voice was faint. 

Chris’ cock twitched and his grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Louder,” he ordered and you whined as a reply. 

“Please,” you repeated. “Please please plea-” 

Your words got choked as he slammed into you, so deeply to cut your airflow completely. And when he slid out and thrust into you again you tried to breathe but it felt impossible. Your pants got louder and louder matching the intensity of the skin slapping and wet sounds. Chris pulled you even closer by your hips, reaching your throat and resting his warm palm on it to keep you in place. 

“You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now,” he murmured. 

“I want- to see,” you admitted and Chris stopped, just the insinuated offer making him close to finish. 

He grunted and slipped out, grabbing your sides and turning you on your stomach with a single movement. You exhaled at his manhandling and when he grabbed your arms, pulling you up on your knees to face the mirror on the right, he felt your body shiver at the view, your eyes drinking in your own body then his figure right behind it. 

"You want to know how you look in my arms?” he whispered in your ear, snaking his hands on your body. “You want this pretty hole stretched and filled with cum?”

Your back curved and he could see in the mirror the way your eyes almost rolled back when he slid back inside of you. 

“Yes,” you whimpered back.

“That’s why you’ve been so loud, weren’t you?” He thrusted slowly and deeply. 

“Yes,” you added, with a choked sound. 

The realization made Chris completely dizzy. “You knew I’ve been listening?” 

“I was hoping you were.” 

“And what were you thinking of while burying your toys inside your cunt?”

You rolled your eyes back, his movement inside of you making it hard to speak. “About this,” you whined, one palm tentatively reaching back to touch his abdomen but you had no more force. 

You fell forwards on your hands, letting him grab your waist and fuck into you faster. Between your lashes you could see his body, tall on his knees, and his gritted teeth behind those gorgeous full lips. It was too much. His touch, his strokes, his scent all around you, his voice - deep and breathy - made you dig your nails into the sheets, twirling them as hard as he thrusted inside of you. 

“-m close, Chris, I am-” you tried to speak, voice muffled by the sheets you were burying your face into. The man leaned down to grab your chin and lift your head up. You exhaled, staring at your teary eyes and fucked up gaze. “Cum for me,” he grunted in your ear and you didn’t see anymore. 

Your body seized up and the sounds got drowned as you screamed. Chris’ hands trembled in your peripheral vision and the feeling of his cum filling up your pulsating cunt made you moan again dragging it until you could hear again. His breath was heavy and his voice hoarse as he whispered your name laced with swears. 

Your lifted your gaze in the mirror, drinking in the way he licked his lips, eyes trained on your ass as he slid his cock out. He looked at you under his eyelashed and grinned, his palm bouncing on one cheek as he gave it a good spank. 

You inhaled then gasped as he knocked your thighs together and slid back in slowly. 

“Chris, I’m too sensitive-” you choked and he exhaled. 

“Me too,” he grunted. “You can give me another one, right, baby?” 

His voice made your skin shiver with goosebumps as he leaned down to pepper wet kisses on your cheek and jaw. “Or I can just stop,” he added, stilling his hips. 

You whined. “Don’t stop-please-” 

Chris hummed and moved slowly, fucking his cum back in. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

You let your face back down and moaned, jolts of electricity running down your veins at the overstimulation. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. “If you stop looking at me I’ll stop.” 

His name excaped your throat like a sob. You didn’t want him to stop but you had no force to keep your head up. 

Chris’s glistening body leaned down again as much as to reach our head. His fingers were delicate but firm when he grabbed your hair and pulled up, his hips picking up the pace. 

You moaned, keeping your neck extended in his hold, the swears coming out of your mouth matching his. The heat in your abdomen felt like an explosion about to happen and when he felt your walls clench he grabbed your elbows again, pulling you up on your knees to wrap his arms all around you. His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his hands kept groping at everything until his knuckles would get white. They rested on your breasts, the other to hold your waist, and you grabbed his veiny forearms, open mouth in an initial silent scream. 

“That’s right, that’s it, cum baby-” he grunted, his voice caressing your shivering skin. 

Your body spasmed and if it weren’t for his hold you would have heavily fallen on the bed. Chris stilled for one moment, groaning as you clenched on him, but then he thrusted again, fucking you through your orgasm until you heard the choke on his breath against your ear, releasing into your for the second time. 

You didn’t know for how long you remained both still, catching your shaky breaths, gazes talking to each other because you had no more words. But the moment he pulled out you watched, his cum sliding down your thigh and pooling on the sheets underneath you. 

___

Chris’ chest felt the perfect amount of hard and soft. You nuzzled into it even more and your hair tickled him. He giggled, wrapping your body even tighter. 

“I’ll get you new sheets,” he murmured. 

“I can get the stain out,” you murmured back. Your eyelids felt heavy after his sweet praises and the delicate touch of his hands cleaning you with a soft warm towel. You didn’t even realize how thirsty you were until he brought a glass of water and he laughed watching you down it. Then he got you another one. Then he gave you a kiss. And another one. And he giggled again when you pulled him down on top of you, making out slowly like you had all the time in the world. 

And being like that in his arms you did feel like you had all the time in the world. 

“I’ll just get you new sheets,” he argued. 

“If you need to get me sheets everytime you fuck me you’ll go bankrupt.” 

Chris remained silent so you lifted your head to look at him in the face. He was grinning. 

“Is that-” he started. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s an invitation to do this again.” 

Chris cupped your face with his palm. “I love how you look when you’re embarrassed.” 

You chuckled dryly. “I am not embarrassed!” 

Chris nodded. “Hm-mh.” 

You puffed and sat up, then turned on the other side. Chris only giggled and wrapped your body again, pulling your back towards his chest. The little smile you had on your face was visible to him in the mirror in front of you and he kissed your neck once before falling asleep with you. 

___

In the morning you both used a single washing machine. 

“Busy and enjoyable night, neighbour?” he leaned on the door suddenly as you finished loading it. The kisses he kept giving you in the elevator made your breath heavy. 

You rolled your eyes amused at his little theatrical act. “Yes.”

He hummed getting closer and you clicked the Power button. 

Chris grabbed your hips loosely and pushed you towards it until your ass hit the low vibrating machine. 

“He made me cum many times,” you whispered against his lips. They were curved in a smile. His eyebrows shot up as if surprised. 

“Oh, really?”

“Hm-hm,” you replied then gasped as he suddenly grabbed you and lifted you on the washing machine. His body naturally slid between your thighs and the way his fingertips trailed on them made you almost mewl. 

“Chris-” you tried to stop him as his mouth fell on your tender neck. 

“Yeah?”

“Not here,” you murmured. 

The washing machine started to rumble underneath you and you exhaled. 

His eyes shone with mischief. “Why, you’re afraid some neighbour is going to hear you? Shouldn’t that turn you on?” 

“I only wanted you to hear me.” 

“Well, if I gag you no one will hear a thing,” he whispered. 

You gulped and your thighs impercetibly tightened around his waist. The vibrations of the washing machine kept sending jolts of pleasure up your bust. 

“What if someone comes in suddenly?” 

“We’ll be quick,” he peppered kissed on your neck. “But I can also stop.” 

His gaze was dark and twinkly with lust. Your eyelids were getting heavy. 

“No, don’t stop. Please,” you whispered. “Please.”

[merrybloomwrites]

Niall Horan - You're My Muse

Summary: A job opportunity leads to a lifetime of happiness with Niall Horan.

Word Count: 1K

AN: I love Niall with Amelia so much that writing Niall x reader was a little awkward at first. Good reminder to myself that I'm writing characters based off of real people and it's all fiction haha

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When your manager told you that an opportunity had come up for you to record a song with Niall Horan, you just stared at her blankly for a minute.

“He’s recording music?” was your first question. You were a huge One Direction fan and had been devastated when the band went on hiatus. You'd been keeping up with any news regarding the boys and their solo careers. By that point, you had only heard Zayn’s music, and it had just been announced a couple months prior that Harry had signed a recording contract. 

But Niall? If there had been anything published about him, you’d know about it. He was your favorite band member after all. 

“It’s not public knowledge yet, but yes, he’s working on his first solo album,” Stacey replied.

Rather than start squealing in excitement, you’d taken a deep breath at the news. You quickly accepted the job, needing no further details. 

A week later you met Niall Horan for the first time. It was a surreal experience, and you remember maybe half of it, having blacked out for the other half. What you do remember is singing together, a beautiful song he’d written called “Seeing Blind”. You were shocked how much you were related to the lyrics. Weirder still was how much Niall was connected to it as well while singing with you.

You figured that he must have written it with someone else in mind and was thinking of her while singing.

Which is why you were utterly shocked when you received a call from him a couple weeks later asking if you’d go on a date with him. 

A silly and chaotic first date in Nashville led to a second, which led to a third. Now six years, a million dates, and two shared houses on two continents later, you and Niall have created a wonderful life together. 

While you do collaborate on songs occasionally, you’re still two independent artists. Part of your basement was made into an at home studio, with one section being completely soundproof. So while you can see each other through the window, you can’t hear each other if you’re on opposite sides of the glass. 

Niall spends most of his time inside the soundproof part. He likes to use all the instruments inside, recording parts as they come to him and playing around with the mixing equipment to hear different sounds. 

He also likes to watch you through the window as he brainstorms. He’s constantly endeared by your writing process, which includes various notebooks strewn across the floor and you repeatedly picking up your guitar, playing for a second, and placing it down again before writing a few words and notes on the page. 

One beautiful spring Saturday, you do a girls outing with your friends. After a day including brunch, a spa trip, and some time shopping, you arrive home. Niall greets you at the door. He takes your bags as he kisses you on the cheek and asks how your day was. 

You tell him all about it as he leads you out back to your patio. The sight catches you off guard. The table is set, and decorated. Garlands of flowers are draped around the railing, and decorative lights are set up to bathe the patio in a warm glow. 

“Did you do all this?” you ask, amazed how wonderful it looks. 

“I did, yea. May have gotten some tips from Harry but it was mostly my vision,” he says with a laugh.

“Well you did an amazing job. This looks perfect,” you say and he glows from the compliment. 

“I’ve made dinner as well. Not chicken, I promise,” he says and you both laugh, remembering the unseasoned chicken incident of 2017. 

He pulls out a chair and adds, “Have a seat, and some wine. I’ll go grab dinner.”

You take a sip of the wine he’d chosen and take another closer look at the decorations. A moment later he’s walking back out, a steaming tray in his hands.

“Is that Shepherd’s Pie?” you ask excitedly. It was the first thing he’d cooked for you years ago, and remains your favorite dish to this day. 

“It sure is,” he replies, setting it down on the table. He spoons some onto each of your plates and you cheers with your wine glasses as you wait for it to cool a bit.

You enjoy dinner together and after Niall clears away the plates, refusing your help, he walks back out with his guitar. 

“So uh, I’ve finished a new song that I’ve been working on and I wanted to share it with you,” he says, more timid than you’ve ever seen him. “It’s called ‘You Can Start a Cult’. It’s inspired by you.”

You’re intrigued by the title, and then he begins to play the most heart warming song you’ve ever heard. You’re not often moved to tears, but you're overwhelmed by emotion at this beautiful song he’d written about you. 

When he finishes playing he puts down the guitar, pulls a box from his pocket, and kneels in front of you. Your heart starts to race and you realize what’s happening a second before he starts to speak. 

“Y/N, these past years with you have been so wonderful. You are my best friend, and my favorite collaborator. You are my muse. You are the love of my life. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. Y/N, will you marry me?”

You take a deep breath before replying, “Yes, Niall, I will marry you.” 

The biggest smile appears on his face and he quickly moves in to hug you. You remain like that, holding each other for a few minutes, sharing small kisses and expressing your love for one another.

Months later, Niall’s tour begins. You join him for some shows, but others you can’t attend due to your own work. He has a rotating setlist, but “You Could Start a Cult” is played every night without fail. And every time he sings it, whether you’re in the audience, or thousands of miles away, it’s like he’s singing just to you.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I have a multi-chapter Niall x reader ABO fic planned for the fall!

[bloodlinesgirly]

Hi!! Was wondering if you would do a Platonic Bloodline x Reader ,in which they’re all very protective of reader and she’s their biggest supporter. Always at ringside with Paul cheering for them and you best believe when she’s in the ring, she does not dissapoint so they always do mixed tag matches w her.

Quick little bloodline imagine

word count: 397

requested

platonic bloodline x reader (they call you “sis” and “girl” once)

“they ain’t ready for the smoke sis” jey laughed, obnoxiously sticking his tongue out before slapping jimmy on the back.

“you guys are such goofs” you giggle, tying your boots before you head to head to the gorilla. Tonight was another mixed tag match, you and the usos vs finn bálor, damien priest, and rhea ripley.

“good luck yall, jimmy…jey, keep her in check out there, don’t let her get hurt” roman points at each one of you. they know you better than anyone, it’s crazy the shit you’d do for them out there. solo sat stoic as always, giving you guys his version of a smile as you left the locker room.

“i’m for real though, don’t do no shit you ain’t ready for. We need you healthy…limbs completely intact.” jimmy grins as his speaks, the whole bloodline is like your second family. they took you in when you were alone and gave you the friendship you needed when first starting your career.

“you’re bout to wipe the floor with rhea, girl! she knows you don’t come to play around here.” jey and jimmy piggyback off each others sentences, excitedly bouncing around the gorilla before their music hits.

Matches with the twins were always fun, weather yall win or lost. you ended up getting them the win, pinning rhea for the first time in what felt like forever. backstage she gave you a hug, congratulating you, you gave her a smile before she went on her way.

“AYEEEEEE you know how we do it out there!!” jimmy yelled, picking you up and twirling you, you and jey did the same handshake you always do, grinning as you did so.

“i swear i was bout to fight yo ass myself when you started climbing those ropes. we told you not to try that yet” solo commented, showing up behind you, patting you on the back.

“i already told you i was ready for it, ive got this” you say as you sit down to untie your boots.

Roman finally joins you guys, hugging the twins and congratulating everyone. “you better be out there with us friday, we can’t be missin our best cheerleader.”

“i’d never miss a chance to cheer on my brothers” you smile, listening to everyone joke and laugh with each other. You’d always be there for them just as they would be for you.