#all his words are very confused and sleepy and like. he wakes up in the middle of the night

[yuwuta]

i love the “i can’t pay the mortgage this month” videos. satoru doesn’t even know what that is, he bought your house in cash, you say the word mortgage and he’s super confused he calls nanami to ask if that’s something he should have for the house—“it’s not like insurance right? i swear we have all that, we even have hurricane insurance because i saw a super scary videos online once nanamin oh my goodness the poor little cats clinging to the roof i almost cried. anyway do we need that?”

[vrystalius]

Sleeping with the Squid Game men.

No, not like that. The fluffy and cuddly way to sleep with them.

Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader (you have a soft chest/boobs)

Summary: What it’s like to share a bed with your favourite man

Genre: Fluff, slightly suggestive

Words: around 500 words per person; around 2.5-3k words in total

Note: The way I had to google for sleepy/sleep pictures for the actors is crazy 😭

(Here are some pregnancy HCs and them as dads if you’re interested!!)

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

He is a very light sleeper but never obviously shows it when he wakes up. Your husband likes to act like he is asleep so you can hold him in silence for longer. His favourite position is to spoon you with you facing him, his face buried into your soft chest, getting pleasantly smothered by your warmth.

He’s a very quiet sleeper and barely ever snores, but his hand sometimes twitches in his sleep and accidentally slaps you lightly.

His sleeping face is soft and almost angelic, his lips squished together into a soft pout when he’s asleep. His hair is spread over the pillow and his arm tightly wrapped around you, as if afraid to be alone again like before he met you.

You took a picture of his sleeping face once. You wanted to use it as a wallpaper for your phone because of how adorable his cheeks looked on there but you somehow lost it. Maybe it was deleted somehow or by someone.

In the mornings seeing him so confused and messy, his hair ruffled by sleep and his eyes still droopy is quite a sight.

His groans are deep, sleepy and raspy. When you brush your hand over his face, you can feel a little bit of a morning stubble on his chin and cheek.

The morning is the only time you can see your husband so off guard, so comfortable. He’s always so on guard otherwise, but now? A dreamy smile and quiet hums of content scape his lips as his eyes sleepily scan your equally tired features.

You two don’t often have lazy mornings but when you do, your husband likes having your head in his chest while his hand traces invisible patters all over your skin, his other arm behind his head in a comfortable posture.

“Are you comfortable like this? I can make some breakfast for us if you like.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

Snores loudly, takes up all the space in bed, drools and doesn’t give a fuck. Thanos likes to spread himself out and then complain about you not spooning him like it’s your fault his arm literally took more space on your bed than you had for yourself.

He talks in his sleep and has periods where he snores very loudly and then goes very quiet, making you think he’s either awake or dead. He is neither though, just in a very deep sleep.

He hogs all the blankets too, that dick. Thanos steals them from you and cuddles onto them, thinking you are the blanket, whining in his sleep about you not hugging him back and his drool spilling all over the blanket.

Also, has the ugliest sleeping face ever. So ugly it’s almost cute, especially the way his mouth falls open and he gets a double chin when his mouth falls agape, or when Thanos begins to frown during his sleep or even cross his arms angrily when he doesn’t like the dream he’s having.

In the mornings he is more like a zombie than a human. He can’t get up without you practically dragging him out of bed and even if you succeed, your boyfriend will curl up on the floor and continue sleeping there.

During cozy mornings, he likes getting his chin scratched by you. He pouts and lazily holds his head up so you can give him the mandatory scratches while his eyes slowly close again as you lull him back to sleep.

He also is very sensitive when it comes to where he can fall asleep. There either has to be complete silence or some white noise playing in the background. Like a child, he can’t fall asleep in front of the TV or when anything else is playing in the background.

Thanks to you he Thanos can’t sleep on his own anymore. Either he has to facetime you and fall asleep on the call or be there with you. He is your problem forever now.

“I don’t need to announce my visit, I’m your boyfriend! I don’t give a shit if it’s 2am either, move your gorgeous ass, I wanna lay down too.”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

For some reason, Nam-gyu cannot lay still. He turns and moves around all night, even talking full on sentences while being fully asleep. If you’re lucky you can have full on conversations with him.

He doesn’t move towards you but in fact actively tries to escape your cuddles. Apparently he likes his freedom. And your pillows.

Instead of stealing your blankets, Nam-gyu snatches the pillow from under your head to hug it and hoard it for himself. He doesn’t drool on it but you did catch him giving it an awkward kiss while he was out like a light.

His sleeping face looks stressed for some reason. He’s frowning as if he just went through the messiest divorce or was abandoned by his mom in the mall. It softens up once your fingers brush over his cheekbones to push some hair away.

Nam-gyu is not a morning person but can force himself out of bed pretty easily. To wake you he heads to the bathroom to let cold water wash over his hands in the sink and then throws the water droplets at your exposed skin or grabs your warm feet from beneath the blanket.

Due to his job as a club promoter and not really having anything to do during the day, your boyfriend is almost always available for many lazy mornings.

He likes to lay his head on your warm stomach and scroll through his phone or angle his camera to snap a selfie of your sleeping beauty face and putting it as the wallpaper of your chats.

Also, an admirable talent of his is that Nam-gyu can fall asleep anywhere at any time. Loud wedding you were invited to? He’s catching a quick nap in the corner of the venue. He has 10 minutes before the club opens? His head is resting on your shoulder in deep sleep while you two wait on a random bench nearby.

“You don’t like the pic I took? I think it’s pretty. And I think you look pretty no matter what… don’t act like you ever took a picture of me when I was sleeping. I know you.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

Thanks to both growing up in a big household and his time serving in the marines, once he’s out, he’s out. Dae-ho can sleep through vacuum-cleaning, hammering nails into walls, a storm, you trying to wake him up and through most of his alarms.

You know that calling out to him like a drill-sergeant would be extremely mean and insensitive to his troubles. You know he’s still scarred, so you’ll keep trying to talk and shake him awake.

Your boyfriend barely snores, just lets out the occasional sigh and groan here and there. His cheek is often squished against his pillow while he lays on his stomach, his lips parted and mouth slightly agape. His sleeping face is extremely cute, vulnerable almost.

His voice is extremely raspy in the mornings and his expression formed into a permanent sleepy pout while he is standing by the stove to make himself a grilled cheese. You just sit there and enjoy the view of his defined muscles in the back working.

Dae-ho needs to hold you to fall asleep. It grounds him in reality and reminds the scared part of his brain that you’re here with him, that you’re not going anywhere and leave him on his own. Whenever you’re with him, he can fall asleep with a smile.

Your smell and warmth alone can lull him into a deep sleep in seconds. If your hands begin to remove his hairtie and your fingers run through his hair to untangle any knots, he’s an absolute goner.

Lazy mornings are pretty rare with him, you’d have to tire him out the night before to get him to still be sleepy in the morning.

Dae-ho took a video of you being asleep and squished up against his soft chest, your drool staining his shirt on one side of his chest and your free hand squeezing his other. You never saw that video before, it cracks him up too much to let it be deleted by you.

“Don’t let go, I still need you here with me… I love you, you know that?”

Gi-hun // Player 456

Gi-hun curls up into a fetal position when he sleeps. His face is hidden beneath the sheets, only his eyes and nose peeking out. He snores very quietly and they stop abruptly whenever he begins to stir.

He thinks he’s being slick by acting asleep and listening to what you’re doing but it’s pretty obvious when those adorable snores stop.

Even if he isn’t much of a morning person he still forces himself out of bed and brews a cup of coffee for you two.

You watch as Gi-hun sits with his cup at the edge of the bed, watching the sun rise higher and higher, enjoying the quiet morning. Peace, even if it’s temporary.

He likes holding you in his sleep and having your head nuzzled in his shoulder, but your boyfriend prefers to be held instead. He desperately craves comfort and security and you always spoil him with exactly that.

Your hand slowly and soothingly brush over his back while his arms were tightly wrapped around you, his eyes tightly shut and face buried in your warm chest.

His sleeping faces are surprisingly handsome and peaceful, his mouth shut most of the time. His brows are furrowed in permanent stress though that only seems to go away when he feels the bed shift beneath him, indicating that you just joined him.

Gi-hun likes sharing a bed with you. It’s intimate and a sacred tradition. Falling asleep and waking up next to you feels like you two bonded over night, two souls enjoying being near each other. Maybe it sounds sappy but that’s how it feels to him.

Lazy mornings are rare because he cannot seem to relax and let his guard down, ever. There’s always something on his mind, something to do and that damn salesman to find. You can shut him up by smothering him with a pillow once he begins to ramble about those weird games again.

“I’m exhausted, I’m sorry if I’m being selfish, but join me? I can’t sleep without you.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

You’ll have to force him to sleep for more than 4 hours a night. Even if the games are not happening right now or it’s still half a year until recruitment, In-ho is always busy with something. It sometimes feels like he’s trying to get out of sleeping in the same bed with you.

When you finally get him to stay in bed with you, it takes a while for him to fall asleep in addition to him being a very light sleeper in general.

He’ll count every tile in the ceiling, scan your face for any new features he might’ve missed or that have changed since last night, then he’ll waddle into the kitchen for a glas of water and then maybe, maybe he’ll begin to slowly fall asleep.

When you wake him up in the mornings, he wakes up like he had the most horrific nightmare just now; eyes shot wide open and a deep gasp emitting from his lips. Your husband always assures you he doesn’t have any though.

He snores in his sleep but it’s more of a pleasant/relaxing sound rather than an annoying dad-snore. They are quiet and rhythmic, giving you quiet reassurance that he’s still peacefully resting next to you.

His face is relaxed as the worry lines in his face slowly melt away, his hair uncared for and his arm shifting around to find your warm skin to touch. He prefers to be the big spoon and have your face nuzzled into his chest or neck, where he can always feel your warm breath and heartbeat.

You gave into the temptation to take a picture of his adorable face once, but In-ho felt an disturbance in the air and shot his eyes open to stare at your face before you could snap your picture. This man can never be caught of guard it seems.

Sometimes you catch him falling asleep in his office, his body curled up in the leather chair as his head hung forward slightly, his glass of whiskey still in his hand with a firm grip on it. He almost dropped it once you woke him up by the way In-ho got startled awake.

“Sorry, I lost track of time. I’m coming to bed now, no need to drag me—“

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

I always write about the things I want the most; sleep and cuddles. Sleepy cuddles? Whenever I use C.AI I always choose a “sleepy” prompt since I mostly use it after waking up or during breaks, times where I am always very sleepy and in need of affection 😭 Hope this wasn’t too weird to read.

Also I did T.O.P so nasty with the pic I chose I’m sorry 😭😭

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <33

Take care of yourselves and stay safe my dears!!

[kashverse]

CAN you PLEASE PLEASE make a drabble of Toji taking care of sleepy Mamaguro and Megumi? I think it would be so adorable. 🧎

oh to continue writing happy toji and happy mamaguro reader... 🚬

the mission was simple: stay up until 12 a.m. to wish toji a happy birthday. you and megumi, the last-standing warriors of the fushiguro household, sat by the door like hyper puppies, waiting for your beloved husband—your fearless protector—your batman (you are not explaining to a six-year-old what an assassin is)—to return home. it was going perfectly until your phone buzzed.

gonna be late. emergency job. don’t wait up.

you stare at the screen. then at megumi. then back at the screen.

the bastard forgot his own birthday.

your son, wise beyond his years, folds his arms and scowls. “so, what, we just give up?” you slap the table dramatically. “absolutely not.”

if there was one thing you and megumi had in common—besides your unwavering judgment of toji’s life choices—it was stubbornness. this mission would not fail. if your husband wanted to be late to his own birthday, that was his problem. but you and megumi? you were gonna be ready. so, naturally, you both made the worst decision possible.

sugar boost.

you and your six-year-old co-conspirator sprawled across the couch, sharing a single pack of gummy bears like it was some kind of sacred ration. one gummy at a time. chewing slowly. blinking at the wall in utter silence like two very small, very deranged owls.

"mama."

"yeah, baby?"

"do you think papa is the strongest man alive?"

"of course."

megumi chews thoughtfully. "do you think he could lift a cow?"

you consider this. "...easily."

"two cows?"

you hesitate. 

-

it’s 11:57 p.m. standing in the doorway, looking like he just crawled out of a damn action movie, is toji. the duffel bag slung over his shoulder drops to the floor with a heavy THUD, and he’s met with—

a beautiful handmade "happy birthday, papa!!" banner, decorated with poorly drawn badtz-maru stickers, because megumi has commitment to the bit.

you, sprawled out on the couch like a crime scene victim.

megumi, passed out on top of you, his little hand still clutching a half-eaten gummy bear.

toji stares. something in his chest tightens. he lets out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. exhausted as he is, something about this sight makes his heart ache in that weird way—the kind of warmth he’s still getting used to, the kind that makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t screw up as badly as he thought. without a word, he moves over to the couch. and because yes, he is that man—he lifts both you and megumi in one go. you stir slightly, groggy, mumbling, "cow..."

toji frowns. "what?"

megumi snorts in his sleep, muttering, "two cows..."

toji, confused as all hell, just grunts and carries his weird, sleep-deprived family to bed.

the next morning, as the sun peeks through the curtains and the birds chirp outside like they're personally taunting you, you and megumi prepare for phase two of toji’s birthday celebration: chaotic wake-up call.

toji, the strongest man alive (and also the biggest sleeper in the house), is sprawled out on the bed, dead to the world. he sleeps like a log, one arm thrown over his face, mouth slightly open, because even assassins need their beauty rest. you and megumi exchange a look. a silent nod of understanding. then, in perfect sync, you both take in a deep, deep breath and—

"HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYYYY!!!"

toji’s entire body jerks like he just got shot. his arms flail, his head snaps up, and before he can even process what's happening, you and megumi double down with a second round of high-pitched, ungodly shrieks right in his ear.

"what the hell—"

but before he can even think about grabbing a weapon (because let’s be real, his first instinct is to attack), he realizes exactly who the culprits are. and oh, oh, you two are in trouble. his sleep-deprived brain short-circuits for about half a second before years of combat training kick in.

he lunges.

"oh—RUN!" you shriek, shoving megumi, but it’s too late—toji grabs you both in one swift motion, rolling over and pinning you down, locking both of you in a vice-like headlock.

"GOTCHA!"

"NOOOO—!"

megumi screams in betrayal as toji mercilessly ruffles his hair. you’re not spared either, as he buries his face into your neck, delivering an absolutely brutal barrage of kisses like it’s a full-scale attack.

“YOU WANNA WAKE ME UP, HUH? THAT HOW WE’RE PLAYIN’ THIS?”

"toji stop—" you wheeze, kicking your legs as he plants an exaggeratedly loud kiss to your cheek. megumi shrieks, wiggling with all his might, but toji just grabs him tighter, pressing another series of dramatic, disgusting dad kisses to his forehead. "UGH, PAPAAAA!" megumi yells, offended.

"nah, nah, you started this, kid," toji cackles. "you and your big mouth—what was all that ‘two cows’ shit, huh?”

"STOP!" megumi flails harder, but he is six and toji is built different. eventually, though, he relents, flopping back with a satisfied smirk, letting you both gasp for air like shipwreck survivors. "you’re the worst," you pant. megumi, hair now a disaster, groans. "i hate birthdays."

toji just smirks, stretching. "eh, still my best one yet."

[b3ach-bunn7]

READ YOUR MIND

You're roommate and her boyfriend are incredibly loud, so you decide to spend the night at your hot friend Jason's house.

fluff, college!au, confessions, one bed trope

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes about twenty minutes of internal conflict before you find yourself outside Jason’s dorm room. 

You feel stupid. It’s not like you haven’t been in Jason’s room before. You guys were friends. He’d slept on your couch after a movie night gone too long, you’d stayed up for hours writing essays together on his bedroom floor. This was nothing weird, nothing new. 

But for whatever reason, today it feels different. 

It might be the fact that you’re seeing him differently. You’re not sure when, but the line between friend and something else has started to blur. You don’t know how you didn’t notice the strong slope of his jaw, the fact that he was probably strong and muscular enough to throw you over his shoulder. How funny he was, how kind he was. The fact he studied English, how smart he was at it. It’s really no one's fault but his own. You’re surprised you’d lasted this long without crushing on him, anyway. And maybe the way his eyes lingered a little too long on your own. Innocent touches felt like something else, a hand holding your hips as he stepped behind you, a thigh against your own as you sat in impossibly tight lecture halls.

Whatever. There’s no point looking at it like that. You love your friendship with him too much to let a little crush ruin it. 

If you were in any other situation, you wouldn’t be here. But it’s late and you know of all your friends Jason’s the most likely to be awake. You don’t want to bother him but you can't spend another night third-wheeling with your roommate and her boyfriend. That, and the fact that it gets particularly loud whenever you come to sleep. 

After a deep breath to steel yourself, you knock on the door. It takes only a few seconds before it swings wide open. 

And God, you take back everything you just said. Because he's wearing a pair of grey sweats, and an old band shirt that is showing off his delicious arms, and you don’t know if you can blame the fact it’s nearly midnight on the thoughts running through your head. His movements are slow, sleepy, as he blinks at you confused.

He pushes his glasses up his head, tufts of brown hair falling over his face. “Oh. Hey. Is- Are you okay?”

“Oh god, did I wake you?”

“Nah, you’re good.” He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

It takes a second before the words come out of your mouth. “I- Lily. She has- She has her boyfriend round, and I don’t sleep very well when he’s there.” You laugh awkwardly, scratching your arm.

You hold up the books and paper you brought with you. “You mind if I crash here tonight? I bought stuff to keep me busy, so I’ll be out of your hair.”

Jason smiles easily, pushing the door open further. “Of course, yeah.” 

You step in, thanking him as he grabs the stuff out of your hand and puts them on his front table. His dorm is so boyish. Him and his roommate, an eccentric boy everybody called Gar, were not the best at interior design. Their couches are dark grey with red pillows, jarring against the white carpet you’d bought them as a housewarming gift. The kitchen was an amalgamation of whatever plates and mugs they’d found at thrift stores, their fridge filled with pictures from Gar’s old polaroid camera. It was cute and very them, and a warm place to sleep that wasn’t accompanied by the sound of your roommate and her boyfriend doing whatever the hell they got up to alone.

“Thanks again. I can’t stand another night with those two.”

Jason snorts a laugh, sitting down on the couch. “It can’t be that bad. They’re nice people.”

“Yeah, sure. But all they do is remind me of how painfully single I am.” You huff, sitting beside him.

He’s close enough that you can smell the expensive cologne he wears. He’s shown you it once, a fancy glass bottle. He’s spritzed it on your wrist and the smell lasted all day. He nods at your words, and you turn your head towards the TV to avoid his gaze.

“That guy you saw last week didn’t work out?” 

Your eyebrows furrow. Honestly, the date had been crap, and you’d forgotten about him the second you’d gone home. You’re surprised he remembers. You tell Jason about all of your romantic adventures, hoping it will have some effect on your feelings for him. It hasn't been very successful so far. And while Jason looks disinterested as he asks you, eyes focused on the movie on screen, his leg taps up and down, and he looks a little restless. You think about lying for a split second, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.

You scoff. “I haven’t spoken to him since. He was boring. And stupid.”

Jason laughs, his eyes crinkling. “That’s rude!”

“He couldn’t hold one conversation with me! Like, I asked him what his favourite book was and he said Diary of a Wimpy Kid. We are nineteen years old!” You whine, hands covering your face as Jason cackles next to you.

“So that’s all women want. A man who reads?” There's a teasing lilt to his voice and you roll your eyes.

“Well, duh. I am studying English after all. I’d like to be able to hold a conversation with him about what I do.”

“That’s a fair dealbreaker, I'll be honest.” Jason hums, resting his arm on the back of the couch, brushing your back slightly. “Is that all you’re looking for in a man?”

The TV blares quietly in the background. Some random show on the food network where the contestant currently on screen looks like they're about to drop the tiered cake in their hands. His question rings out in the room, and you know you only have a few seconds before your silence is considered awkward. But you can’t help but think his question is so suggestive. Does he want to know why out of innocent curiosity? Or does he want to know out of something else?

“Well. Obviously not.” You finally say, bringing your knees up to your chest. “But English comprehension would be nice.”

Jason snorts a laugh. “That being said. He has to be funny. And tall, at least taller than me. And he needs to be smart. And fit. Like, physically.”

Jason watches you with a small smile on his face, nodding, like he knows you're just trying to describe him in a roundabout way. You laugh, a little nervous under his gaze. You reach across the couch and grab the remote.Your arm brushes against his leg and the contact is fleeting but it makes your skin burn.

“And all these guys at uni, and you haven’t found one who fits?” 

His voice is lower when he speaks again, and when you look at him he’s looking at you so intensely. And it’s then you notice that the two of you are sitting quite close on the couch, considering it's one big enough to fit about four people. 

“Well. Yes. I- Maybe.”

He just nods again. You take a quick breath in, quickly grabbing your book from the table. “Did you finish the essay for next week?” 

Jason groans, leaning his head back on the couch. “Fuck. No. I completely forgot.”

You wave your own essay in the air. “Well. I was gonna ask you to read over mine, but. Nevermind then.” You sigh dramatically.

“Shut up. Lemme read.” He takes it out of your hand, slipping his glasses back on his face. They’re thick rimmed lenses that make him look older than he is and you love them.

You watch him as he reads, fingers playing with his bottom lip as his eyes skim over your work. Some part of you feels the tiniest bit self-conscious, because he is a hundred times smarter than you, but you know he’d never make it feel that way. Jason suddenly looks up and his eyes meet yours. You smile, face heating, as he raises an eyebrow.

“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?”

“Shut up.”

You tap the edge of your paper. “Good?”

“Great. Can you write mine too?”

You snort. “You wish.” Jason pouts and drops your paper back on the table.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now I’m hungry.”

You sit up immediately at that. “Yes. Let’s order food.”

Jason looks back at his kitchen. “I shouldn’t. I’ve eaten takeaway every night this week, I think. It’s also,” he quickly glances at his watch, “barely half twelve. What’s even open right now?”

You groan, shaking his shoulder. “Jason, don’t be responsible! I’m here, this is like a sleepover. We need to eat something junk-foody.”

Jason just frowns. You flick the centre of his glasses and he tuts. “Hey.”

“I’ll even pay! It’s on me.” You nod and pull out your phone. You’re opening UberEats before he can protest again.

“See. Burger King is open. We love Burger King!”

“We do?”

“Yes. What do you want?”

“A whopper.”

You spend the next ten minutes deciding and then the next thirty waiting anxiously for your food. The thing with Jason, and probably the reason you like him the most, is that you can talk to him about anything. Tonight, it’s his brother Dick’s birthday party. He leans in to show you the picture on his phone, and you try not to laugh at how unhappy he looks to be photographed.

When the doorbell rings Jason runs to grab the food, before bringing it back to the two of you. It takes another twenty minutes for the two of you to finish eating, old episodes of Friends humming in the background. Sleep circles your limbs and you yawn, sipping on blue slushy that had come with your order. It’s entirely too sweet and stains your tongue blue but you keep drinking it anyway.

“I don’t know. Bruce is always asking me to come over, but. Things are still weird.”

You nod. “Yeah, I get it. But it’s good you’re trying. I-“

You're cut off suddenly by Jason yelling and pointing at your arm. You screech, dropping your slush and shooting off the couch.

“What! Oh my god, what is it?” You yell, hands rubbing at your sleeves.

“You-“ Jason tries to speak but his words are cut off by a laugh. “It was just a little bug.” 

“Jason. That is not funny! You freaked me out, look!” You whine, pointing at the now spilt slushy all over your hoodie.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, sorry.” 

He gets up and grabs some tissues and you furiously dab at your hoodie. The couch is also now blue, and you frown. “There goes my bed, too. Guess I’m sleeping on your bedroom floor today.” 

Jason perks up where he’s blotting the couch. He frowns, thinking for a moment. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, what? Take my bed.”

Your hands drop to your sides. “Well what about you?” 

“I’ll take the floor. It’s my fault you split this, anyway.” 

“It’s your bed. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor.”

“Well, it’s my dorm so. I think I’ll have the final say, sweetheart.” He teases. 

You bite your bottom lip, thinking, and toss the used tissues on the table. “Why don’t we just sleep together?”

The tips of Jason’s ears turn a dark red and he looks a little shell-shocked at your words, before it’s replaced by a smirk. Your face flushes too, and you quickly shake your head.

“I- Not like that, I meant- Stop laughing.” You snap. But the sight of him laughing behind his hand makes you giggle a little too.

“I just mean, like. I don’t mind sleeping in the bed with you. I just- I don’t think there’s any point in one of us sleeping on the floor, if there’s a perfectly good bed that can fit us both, you know?”

You’re well aware that you’re rambling, and the way he tilts his head and smiles at you is not helping. He gives the couch one last wipe and stands.

“Alright. That’s cool with me if it’s cool with you.  I can also get you something else to wear.” He gestures at your now blue hoodie and you smile gratefully.

You’ve been in Jason’s room once or twice, to grab something or take a call. But this time it’s different, because you’re looking at his bed and you’re going to be in it in about five minutes. You ignore the band posters plastered on his walls, the messy stacks of books all over his floor. You sit gingerly on the edge of the mattress and wait. He comes in only a moment later. He starts rummaging through his drawers and you just watch. He glances at you over his shoulder and shakes his head, huffing a laugh.

“Stop staring. You’re making me nervous.” He whispers.

“Man up.”

He throws a hoodie at you and you catch it. “You know where the bathroom is.”

You walk into the toilet and quickly get changed. You leave your old hoodie in the hamper. Jason’s one is bigger and smells like him, and you don’t see yourself giving this back anytime soon. You give yourself a quick once over in the mirror, fixing your hair and wiping mascara from under your eyes, before you head back to Jason’s room.

When you come back, Jason’s already in bed, doing something on his phone. You linger in the doorway and he looks up.

“You want a formal invitation?”

You roll your eyes and shuffle your way over. You gingerly lift up the sheets and climb in. You are so painfully aware of how close he is, your shoulders brushing as he puts his phone to the side and lays down properly. The room is silent other than the two of you breathing. Just when you're about to speak, he beats you to it.

“Night.” He whispers.

“Goodnight.”

You’re not crazy, right? This is weird. Maybe if it was Victor’s room. A boy friend who was completely platonic, it wouldn't mean anything. But you’ve felt the tension between you and Jason, the subtle flirting, the lingering touches. You know that whatever is happening between you guys is not just friendship. And you have no idea if it's just you, because Jason is breathing so evenly you think he’s fallen asleep already. 

You shuffle a little in the sheets, uncomfortable. They smell like Jason and it’s not helping to calm your thoughts down. You turn around to lay on your side, and when you do, you’re met with a face right in front of you, looking back. 

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to adjust to the darkness and this close, you can make out the spattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the grey hairs he’s growing at 20 that he always complains about. His eyelashes are so long, and you smile sleepily.

“Hi.” 

He smiles too. “Hi.”

“I can’t sleep.” You mumble, eyes fluttering shut. “Those burgers woke me up.”

Silence. You don't get a reply. You open your eyes again and Jason is just staring.

“Is there another bug on my face?” You joke. But he doesn't laugh.

“No. You just look so pretty right now.”

Your mouth opens to speak, but no words come out. Jason looks like he’s telling you the time of day, so casual. He lifts up his hand slightly, and brushes a strand of your hair from out your face.

“I- Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything again. You don’t know what to say. A silence settles over the room again. The two of you just look at each other. And just when you’re about to break it, he sits up so fast it makes you jump.

“Jason, what-”

“I can’t do this, I-”

You eyebrows furrow and you sit up, watching Jason flick on the lamp on his bedside table. The room is enveloped in a soft warm light, and his hair is tousled a little, his shirt wrinkled from how quickly he got up.

“What is going on right now?” “Did you know Gar isn’t home?” He says.

You say yes, because the fact you can’t hear him yelling at COD or something else, and the fcat he didn’t come say hi, is enough clue that he’s not home. 

“Right, so. When I made you spill your slushy, which was an accident by the way, I could’ve easily just let you stay in there. He wouldn’t care.”

“Okay.” You say slowly.

“And. I didn’t. Because I knew that you wouldn’t let me sleep on the floor and i wouldn’t either, and then we’d be in this position, and I’d finally get the chance to fucking tell you how i feel.”

“How- How you feel?”

“Yes. And then I pussied out and I just said goodnight, and. And then you looked at me, and, fuck. I can’t take it anymore.”

And then Jason turns to look at you, and he looks so desperate as he grabs your hands, his skin calloused as he tightens his grip. 

“I like you. A lot. And, you know, I’d like to think I'm pretty smart, but I know I am horrible when it comes to people, at feelings. So I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say that.”

This is a dream. There’s no way this is real, that the Jason Todd, biceps and all, is confessing to you on his bed. You want to pinch yourself because the way his thumb is rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand is making your heart squeeze in your chest.

You watch those pretty brown eyes furrow slightly at your silence. 

“I- If you don’t feel the same way, I-”

You don’t think before you reach forward, palms grabbing his jaw and pulling him forward so you can press a kiss to his lips. And he barely waits a second before his eyes flutter closed, hands tangling in your hair to pull you impossibly closer. Your arms slide down to curve around his neck and you toy with the hair on the nape of his neck, and he groans. You finally let go and he leans his forehead on yours, kissing your nose, your cheek.

“I like you too, by the way. If the kiss wasn’t tell enough.”

He grins, boyish and handsome, and you want to kiss him again.

He sighs happily, hands slipping up the edge of his hoodie, eyes waiting for your nod of approval. When he gets it, he smiles again, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“God, thank fuck for Lily and her boyfriend

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

nia try not to write a college au mission impossible... I LOVEE JASON TODD! In my head any alternate universe hes not emo so i write him nice and cute.

thanks to all who voted in the poll! im gonna make my way through all the guys on that list so look out for it! next up will be shinsou because of a very nice commenter ;P i hope u all enjoy this, leave any fic ideas in my ask box!

[bandgie]

Just Once - Say Yes

werewolf!Chan x fem!reader

warnings! MDNI 18+, biting, very slight blood mentions, PIV, no protection, rut, knotting, fingering, nipple play, reader says it hurts once, breeding mentions, monsterfucking? (I could have done more)

notes! you know im down bad when I get wet from just seeing images of chan like what the fuck?

2.5k words

Chan knows he’s not supposed to be here, yet, that’s exactly where he is. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of his body and in a way he’s not. Your scent fills his nose even through the shut door of your bedroom. You’re sleeping, he figures. He can hear your steady, slow breaths and the gentle snores. 

His feet are planted, head resting on the wooden door as he groans. Chan wants so desperately to wake you up. To softly knock on your door until you answer in the dead of the night. Maybe seeing you will satiate his thirst. Just a glance at your figure can help him - it will be enough, but he’s not thinking rationally right now. He can’t. Not when his rut is at an all-time high. Chan is on top of his suppressors, but his breeding period and the full moon makes for an unbearable combo. 

He knows you will answer no matter how late it is. Chan can easily imagine you opening the door, dazed and confused. He would tell you he’s having a hard time by himself, tell you that he desperately needs your help.

Or maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all. He could just grab your plush hips and pull you into a kiss. Maybe you’d mumble sleepy questions, squeak when his hands find the fat of your ass, but you’d let him. He knows you would. 

That’s why he has to leave. Now. His cock throbs just thinking about how pliant you are for him. He tells himself that he’ll be satisfied with his hand or his fleshight which makes a shitty substitute. Chan knows breeding a human during such an intense time would be too much, too rough for them. As much as his body and wolf beg for you, that sliver of humanity is intact.

So he whines, quiet and high. Chan wills his legs to move, stepping back until he’s no longer pressed against your door. The floorboards creak under his feet with every step. He swears they’re telling him to go back, to bang on your door and pump you until he’s sure you’re knocked up. He really has lost it, convinced that the wood beneath is telling him to screw you.

Unbelievable. 

He’s too busy laughing and fighting with himself to hear you slip out of bed. Chan misses your quiet feet treading to your bedroom door, slowly opening it as you adjust your eyes in the dark. 

“Channie?”

The floorboards must be cursed to sound like you or maybe his rut is just that bad. He tried to brush off your call as him going insane, but the hair on his neck stands and the smell of you is so much stronger. Chan doesn’t want to turn around for your sake. His composure will break and he doesn’t want to imagine what you look like right now. 

“What are you doing out here?” You sound so tired barely coming out of your slumber. Chan doesn’t sense any fear from you, not even worry. You’re far too sleepy to feel anything beyond confusion. The trust you have for your lover, even if he is half beast, is endearing. It makes his heart swell and his stomach turn. He can’t tell if your love for him is naive or pure. Perhaps both.

He’s going to tell you that he’s okay. He just had a bad dream and needed to walk around the house for a bit. It’s not uncommon to see your boyfriend wandering the house late at night; you know how difficult it is for him to sleep. Chan was going to tell you, but he felt your hand wrap around his bicep. You gently tug him until he faces you and what a mistake that is. You’re dressed in a shirt much too big for you, his shirt. It barely goes past your ass and your pebbled nipples poke through the fabric. Your eyes are squinted, lips swollen from sleep. Chan’s eyes are captivated by your human beauty when you say, “Channie, is everything okay?”

No, everything is not okay. Chan’s been fucking into his hand for hours pretending it’s you - he’s knotted into his toy countless times. When he did get the stupid courage to go to your door, he backed away. It’s even worse now his cock is leaking being so close to you.

You should have stayed sleeping.

His strong arms wrap around your torso, pulling you in. There’s no time to question him when Chan presses his lips against yours. Your lover is usually gentle during kisses. He takes time to cup your cheek, to tilt his head so your mouths can better align. If he was really into it, he would suck on your bottom lip only to bite it until you gasped.

He doesn’t kiss you like that now, not even in the slightest. His hands cup your ass just as he imagined. They knead and dig into your flesh, pressing you flush against his crotch. His lips are rough and messy. Your teeth clash almost animalistically and he hears you whine into the kiss. Chan can’t tell if you're whining due to the neediness from his mouth or cock. He knows you can feel his stiffness against your leg. 

Your dainty hands find his chest to gently push at it. Chan’s usually good at reading the room, knowing what to do and when to do it. But this isn’t your Channie. He can’t even feel your fists when he keeps shoving his tongue down your throat. The taste of you is addicting. All he wants to do is feel you from the inside out. To have every part of him connected with you in the most primal way. 

It’s not until you whimper again that he notices. Chan sucks harshly on your tongue before he pulls away with a string of saliva connecting your mouths. His eyes are dazed when he looks at your features. Your face is flushed and your eyes are wide. If you were still asleep before, you’re wide awake now. Chan can tell you’re trying to come up with what to say, but you already know. You can feel his boner on your thigh, you can see the glow in his eyes, and the fact that his body seems thicker, denser. Chan has only let you see him during the end of his rut. He’ll lock himself in his room for days until he’s ready to socialize. You could always hear him on the other side though. How the slick sounds of whatever he’s using are surely filled with cum. If you pressed your ear against the frame, you could hear him softly calling out your name. You wanted to see him so bad. No matter how many times you asked, Chan would turn you down. It’s too dangerous, he’d said. I don't want to hurt you.

But that Chan is nowhere to be found. Instead, you’re faced with the very wolf he’s tried so desperately to keep you from. 

“Sorry,” he already knows what trouble you’ll be in tonight. “Hurts so bad. I can’t take it.” Chan grinds his cock to show you. “Just one knot. Just one I promise.” Ah, a promise. You both know how much Chan loves keeping his promises, but this is one he doesn’t know you’re hoping he’ll break. 

He doesn’t even know why he’s asking. He doesn’t think stopping is possible at this point, but he’d try. Chan is already trying to ignore how his lips ache for yours and stop thinking about how perfectly your body molds into his, but you hold on to him tighter. 

Chan doesn’t hear you say yes with how loud his blood drums in his ears, but he does see you nod. The sultry look in your eyes will do you more harm than good. He doesn't ask twice, doesn’t think twice. He smashes his lips against yours again, walking you back to your room without caring how you trip over your own feet. 

You feel the bed on the back of your knees and Chan rips himself from the kiss. He pushes you on the mattress, quickly crawling over you as one of his hands lifts the shirt to your shoulder. You gasp at how quickly he’s moving. His hot mouth is already latched onto your nipple while his hand dips past your underwear. 

By some magic, you’re already wet. Chan only plays with your clit for seconds before dripping his thick fingers into your heat. Squeals and wet pumps fill the room. Your back arches when he bites on your nipple, tugging the bud and letting go before doing it all over again. Bruises are already forming on your breast and Chan is eager to make your other match. His slick fingers pull from your pussy to tug your underwear down instead.

Your panties hang from one ankle, legs wide as Chan settles between them. The entrance of your cunt slightly gapes from his fingers. No time is wasted as he shrugs his boxers off, eyes never leaving your core. You almost want to close your legs from his staring, but you would miss the view of his cock springing free. 

“Oh shit,” you gawk at his size. Chan’s always been thick, a fat head that always stretches you out just right. But this - this is massive. His rut must make everything bigger. Even the knot that sits at the base of his cock seems triple in size. “Channie, I don’t think- there’s no way in hell you can fit.”

But he’s already stroking himself. Your worries fall on deaf ears when his fat tip touches your clit. He moans at the feeling of your lips around him. He presses his cock so that it grinds against your flesh hard. Your mouth falls open, gaze dropping so you can see him rock against your pussy. 

You think you could cum just like this. His engorged cock provides the perfect veins and ridges for stimulation. Still, your cunt clenches pathetically around nothing. Curiosity is a dangerous thing. It makes you think about what it would feel like to have his raw cock in you. Chan can tell you’re ready for it when you start grinding back, tilting your hips so his tip catches your entrance. 

It’s going to fit - he’ll make sure. Even if you cry and beg for him to slow down, he knows your body will break for him.

And it does just that with the first intrusion. The swell of his cock easily slides into you with a few inches following before he meets the inevitable resistance of your tight cunt. You whine, hands finding purchase on the pillow beneath you. It doesn't hurt, not in the slightest, but you can feel the pressure. Your walls clench and squeeze his girth until he forces himself to pull an inch out.

“Baby, shit,” he breathes. Chan attempts to gain composure through controlled inhales and exhales. “Why are you always so tight?”

Before you can even think about answering his rhetorical question, he thrusts himself deeper. Chan follows his breath, using his airflow as a metronome. In, out, in, out. Deeper, inch by inch, before he sees his knot come to contact with your cunt. 

He’s trying, really trying not to just pin your hands down by your sides and fuck his hips into you. Instead, he keeps his hands at your thighs, but he’s not sure if that’s any better. Chan’s claws dig into your tender flesh leaving marks that nearly split your skin. It must hurt with how hard he’s gripping you but your eyes roll to the back of your head with every thrust. 

Just like he thought, you’re so good to him. Even with your pretty whines and whimpers, you’re still such a good girl for your Channie.

Such a good girl.

It gets to him: your flushed cheeks, your bouncing tits, the moans that tumble from your swollen lips, and how your hands have moved from the pillow to try and grasp onto him instead. You must want more, he reasons. You must with the cream he sees coating his length every time he pulls out. You must with how you’re chanting his name, nearly sobbing it. 

You must with how you make his knot ache, begging to already shove its way inside you and spill. 

Chan can imagine it, he can taste it. It’s such a strong need that he growls, his sharp canines showing from his lips pulled back into an animalistic snarl. Saliva drips down his teeth when he thinks about biting you. Leaving marks on your neck that will only help hold you down while his knot finds its place in your womb. You hardly notice the droll seeping your tummy, too caught up with how harshly Chan is fucking into you.

You do, however, feel how his hips change pace. They get harder, sloppier as if he’s trying to shove that god-forsaken knot into you. 

“Channie!” It’s half-panicked and half-breathless. “Wait! That’s not - hng! I can’t-”

“You can,” he snarls. “And I will.”

Now you can see his teeth that clamp down so hard that his drool is tinted with pink. This is the first time you’ve seen him for what he truly is - a beast. A monster in its purest form with eyes that seem to glow, pitch-black nails that will surely leave marks for weeks, and canines you know can shred you in a second. 

Even with all of that, you know that this man - this wolf - is Channie. Your Channie.

So you don’t whine against him anymore. You don’t try to escape him when he lays his head in between your shoulder and neck to sink his teeth into. You embrace the bite, fully expecting unbearable pain, but instead, it’s blinded by the stretch of his knot in you.

Pleasure and pain intertwine, unable to separate from each other when Chan completely surrounds you. But your body reacts before your brain can. You let out a yelp and scratch your dull nails down his sculpted back. Chan moans into your neck at the feeling, shoving his hips impossibly deeper just to feel you do it again. 

“Sh-shit! Channie! Hurts…” but he doesn’t see your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling of his seed pumping into you. 

Chan doesn’t reply, can’t reply with how he’s pulled his teeth from you and begun licking your wounds. But he knows. His balls tense and release with every spurt of cum he gives you and you whimper with every pump. 

He’ll apologize in the morning; pamper you and make sure that you’re well rested. He’ll make sure to take care of you real good, especially with the chance of you giving him pups. 

Fuck. He can’t think like that. His cock jumps at the thought and he swears his knot swells all over again. Chan inhales your human scent, reminding him that you’re his priority no matter how much his rut makes him needy to breed. But even in his frenzy state, he doesn’t dare to tell you knotting can last up to 30 minutes.

[indulgentdaydream]

BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BESTIE

what about a tired and very touch-starved jason wakes up at like 2pm and fem!reader is out of bed??? and he comes and finds them and throws them over his shoulder and brings them back to bed???? because why would you leave jaybean by himself????? unnacceptable???

THIS IS SO ADORABLE WHAT

And the idea of people waiting for my requests to be open is so weird like… what do you mean you wanna read my writings and hear my thoughts??? Y’all make me smile so much I swear

Side note: I’m so sorry this is a month late. And then also another day late than I said I would post.

Side side note: if y’all saw me post this without the photo header…. No you didn’t

M.I.A

Jason Todd x gn!Reader || Domestic Fluff || Word Count: 758

Warnings: not completely proofread. Gun mention.

Jason’s pulled himself out of a bad dream. Not quite a nightmare, though something eerily close.

It was one of those rare nights that he had off of patrol. One he where the two of you got to eat dinner together, watch some TV, get ready for bed, then fall asleep in your shared bed. He enjoyed the chances when he got them.

He laid on his stomach under the comfortably heavy duvet. His left arm was bent beneath his pillow, his hand grazing the hidden .44 he had convinced you to let him keep there, the other arm laying in front of him. He kept his eyes closed, clinging to his last tendrils of sleep.

All he needed was you back in his arms and his dreams would turn good again, filled with the smell of your soap and hints of faded perfume.

Slowly, he stretches his right arm out across the sheets, sleepily searching for your form. It drags along the sheets, his entire body only half-asleep.

He’s aware that there’s this… itch in his skin. Not a physical itch. An itch that can only be satisfied by having your arms around him again.

Jason Todd doesn’t count sheep. He counts your heart beats or your breathing. Sometimes both.

He must be laying further to the edge of his side of the bed than he thought. Usually, he doesn’t have to reach this far to get to you when you two drift apart in your sleep.

His hand grazes the wall. His eyes shoot open.

You aren’t in bed.

He pushes himself up with his elbows. A tired, confused, and slightly panicked frown settled on his face, his hair mussed up and flat on one side of his head.

The bedroom window is closed. The door is cracked open.

Then he notices the sound of the tap running in the kitchen.

Jason gets up and out of bed, moving languidly. He pads his way out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

His eyes squint at the light you had turned on as he stands in the doorway. All foggy panic he felt before faded away at the sight of you, filling a glass with water, standing in one of his shirts.

He shuffles his feet. A purposeful noise that he wouldn’t otherwise make as he went about his day, one to get your attention.

You turn around, your glass of water in your hand. You take notice of your boyfriend’s large stature filling the entryway, a sleepy pout on his lips. You give him a smile. He can tell you're trying not to laugh at his fatigued state.

“Want a glass, too?”

Jason shakes his head. He makes his way across the kitchen, his brows still furrowed against the light.

He just wants you back in bed with him.

He reaches for your glass after you sip from it. You hand it to him. Jason takes the cold glass in his right hand, bends down a little, and wraps his left arm tight around the bottom of your bum. He stands back up, now with you draped over his shoulder.

You squeal out a fit of laughter, "Jay!"

He flicks off the light as he exits the kitchen, makes his way back into the hall, then kicks the door to your bedroom shut as he carries you in.

Gently, he sets you back down on the edge of the bed. Once you're properly seated, he hands your water back for you to finish. Seeing your bright smile makes his own lips tug into a small one.

Jason rakes his hands through his hair as you drink. He rubs his hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes from a moment, trying to shake a bit of the sleep still clinging to him.

You hand him back the nearly finished glass of water. He watches you shuffled back under the covers, moving over to the wall-side. Your side. He finishes off the last two gulps of your water and sets the glass on the night stand.

He follows you under the covers, immediately pulling you close. He presses a kiss to your cheek and drops his head into the crook of your neck, an arm draped around your waist, the other tucked under his pillow. He kisses your shoulder and gently squeezes your waist once.

Your arms settle around him, "If you wanted cuddles you could’ve just asked, you know."

Jason only grumbles an incoherent response. He shuffles and presses closer to you, holding you tight.

You kiss his forehead and Jason starts to count.

Ahh!! I hope you like! This is lowkey rushed.

Also you can catch my personal headcanon of how Jason WILL keep his bed, with or without you in it, as far away from the window and door as possible. And you best believe that when you two share, you're getting the wall side so he can act as a barrier for any possible danger that may come in.

[electrosuite]

could you maybe do a fic where eddie is your dealer and you go to him and ask him to take your virginity and it turns out he's been fantasizing about fucking you since the day you met

warnings: swearing, drugs (marijuana), dirty talk, oral sex, descriptive sex

word count: 2.7k

masterlist

You knocked against the door to Eddie's house, nervously sighing and crossing your arms. It took a moment, but the door opened to reveal a very sleepy looking Eddie.

You immediately felt guilty, relaxing your posture a bit.

"Shit, sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"It's fine. Everything okay? You pounded the shit out of the door."

You nodded. "I don't know. I just..." You were trying to think of a reasonable excuse for waking him up, but the best you could come up with was, "How much do you have?"

"Uhh..." He thought for a moment. "I'm down to my last ounce. I need to get more."

"Great. I'll take it."

"What, all of it?"

"Yeah." He looked at you like you were crazy. "What?"

"You never get more than an eighth."

"Well, I am today."

He was still a bit confused, but he moved out of the way and allowed you to step inside. You walked over to the couch and sat. He didn't take his eyes off of you until he got into his room, wondering what had you so upset.

When he brought his supply out, he laid it on the coffee table with enough rolling papers to make joints out of every last speck. This was what he always did for you. He rolled the joints before you even left because you struggled every time you tried.

The two of you were silent while he rolled the first one, then handed it to you. You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and lit it, that first inhale feeling better to your lungs than oxygen.

As he began rolling the second joint, he spoke up.

"So, what's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem off. Is everything okay?"

You rubbed your eyes with your fingers, propping your elbow on your knee.

After a moment, you replied, "Do you think it's weird not to date in high school?"

He looked up at you. "Are you really asking me that question?"

"I mean do you think it's weird if a girl hasn't dated in high school?"

"Is there a difference?"

"You know there is. People treat it differently."

"Do you care what people think?"

"Of course I do. But that's not what this is about."

"Are you afraid you're weird for not dating?"

"I don't know. I mean, almost everyone I know is, and sometimes i just wonder if I'm... doing something wrong."

"What do you mean, 'doing something wrong'?"

"I don't know how to explain it. Like, if I'm doing something that makes me unattractive, or-"

"Trust me, you're not."

"You don't think so?"

"No," he chuckled. "Absolutely not."

You took note of his comments, noticing his reaction to you suggesting you're unattractive. You didn't say anything for a moment, just watched him roll joint after joint.

You stood up slowly and began pacing in the pathway between the couch and coffee table, shoving your hands in your pockets.

When he got to the last joint, you turned to him and sighed.

"Look, I didn't come here for weed," you blurted.

"What do you mean?"

"I came here..." You could feel your heart pounding. "I came here to ask if you'd be interested in... taking my virginity."

His hand movements froze, his eyebrows raised, and his eyes drifted up to look at you.

"What?"

"I've been thinking. A lot. I'm so close to graduating as a virgin, and I don't want that. I want to lose it before I graduate, and the person I'd want to do it with most is you. I trust you."

He laid the joint in his hands down and got to his feet, walking to the kitchen and washing his hands, taking his time. You followed him, continuing to ramble.

"You know, like I said, every one of my friends are in relationships, and I'm fine with not dating. But none of them are virgins, and I'm the only one." Eddie turned the water off and grabbed a rag to dry his hands. "I'm just worried that if I don't lose it now, then I won't lose it for a while. And I don't really want to be a virgin anymore."

He turned to you and grabbed your face, pulling you in and planting his lips against yours. It caught you off guard but you immediately kissed back.

It was a gentle yet assertive kiss, one with longing behind it. It felt so natural, like your lips were made for each other. You immediately gripped his sides and let out a soft whimper into his mouth.

His hands slid down the backs of your thighs and he picked you up, carrying you into his room and kicking the door closed behind him. He tenderly dropped you down sideways onto his bed, your head hanging off the edge a bit.

He kept kissing you, his hips between your thighs. He was much more dominant than you expected him to be, as if a switch flipped in his head the second he started thinking about sex.

You reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, looking down at his body. He was beautiful, and you pulled him back down to kiss you. But he broke it a moment later to undress you, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.

He stopped, looking down at your body with his mouth slightly agape.

"What?" you asked, beginning to get nervous from his reaction. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just... weird."

"What is?"

"You're my client. I'm your dealer. It's just not something I thought would happen."

"If you don't wanna do this-"

"Woah, I didn't say that." His hands began traveling up your thighs. "I've wanted to for... I don't even know how long." His fingers slipped under your panties, pulling them off of you slowly. "I've wanted you for so long." He watched your face as his digits found your clit. A small whine left your mouth as your eyebrows turned upwards, your head falling back off the mattress.

He didn't take his eyes off your face, and he felt his pants grow tighter. Watching you squirm under him, it was a dream come true.

He was going so, so slow, and all you wanted was for him to speed up. But he didn't, instead loving the idea of teasing you. Making you writhe under him, demanding more.

So he decided to remove his fingers and crawl off the bed, kneeling on the floor. He grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you close, your hips hanging off the mattress slightly.

And the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on your soaked pussy drove you insane. You moaned much louder than you meant to, but you couldn't help it. He apparently knew exactly what he was doing, because this felt magical.

You couldn't physically hold your hips still, so he pressed down firmly on your hips. And when you couldn't move, forced to stay still, it almost made it more pleasurable.

You didn't know what to do with your hands, so they latched onto his hair, pulling tightly. So tightly, in fact, that he groaned. And his voice against your body felt like vibrating. This made you gasp, immediately feeling your orgasm approaching.

"Fuck, Eddie."

He knew you were close just by the sounds you were making. They were needy, desperate. And it was all he could think about. He'd always wondered what you sounded like when you came. The sweet sounds that would fill the room. And the fact that your first orgasm from someone else would be with him... It was almost too much for him to handle.

He needed to make you cum - hard. He was determined to make it as mind-blowing as humanly possible, to wear you out just from his tongue.

So when your hips bucked uncontrollably and you fisted his hair even harder, he knew you were finally there. You couldn't hold in the scream, the original plan of trying to be quiet going out the window. And he kept it going, refusing to let up.

Normally when it was just you, you only came for a few seconds because it was all you could handle. But a few seconds was gone, and he could tell he succeeded in making this intense.

And when your orgasm began to end on its own, he finally slowed down, easing you out of it. But he still didn't completely stop. In fact, the sounds you made got him desperate to hear them again, deciding then and there that he could postpone his own pleasure for the sake of watching you squirm under his mouth again.

So when he picked back up on the speed, it didn't take long to get you there again, maybe twenty seconds.

And during all of that, he never closed his eyes or looked away from you, not even for a second. He needed to watch how good he made you feel, how good your first time was.

When you physically pushed him away, he realized that you'd had enough. And when you pulled him back up to you, he was like a puma pouncing on his prey. You reached under you and unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

"God, you're even more beautiful than I imagined."

His lips latched onto your breasts, cupping them in his hands. You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, causing him to sit up on his knees. He watched your hands undo his pants, taking the opportunity to get up and pull them all the way off.

As he stood there, fully nude, you bit your lip at the sight. He looked so good, and he was rock hard. He dug through his nightstand and pulled out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth and sliding it down his length.

You knew he was going to be a lot to take, but if he was as good at sex as he was at oral, you were in for a good time.

When he crawled back on top of you, his hips settled against yours and he kissed your neck. Your hands found themselves against his ribs, fingertips pressed into his skin.

After a moment, he looked at you, making eye contact.

"You're sure about this?" he whispered.

"Are you really asking me that now?"

"I need you to answer me."

You reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear with your right hand.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life, Eddie." You spoke softly, seductively. You pulled his face down so you could whisper into his ear. "I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."

He took in a tiny gasp at this, dirty talk not something he expected from you. You'd always been, for lack of a better word, pretty innocent. But he'd been surprised before, finding the most innocent girls to be freaks in bed.

"For your first time?"

You just nodded. "For every time."

And with that, he was kissing you again. He reached down to line himself up to your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You whined into his mouth and he smiled, the sound like music to his ears.

Once he was fully nestled into you, he also let out a moan. He didn't move at first though, allowing you time to adjust.

"That okay?"

"Oh god, you feel so good, Eddie."

He let out a satisfied sigh. "Good. Tell me if you want to stop at any point, alright?"

"I won't want to."

"Hey, I mean it. If it gets too much, or you change your mind at any point, make me stop. Okay?"

You nodded, smiling at him. "You're so sweet."

He kissed you again, beginning to move his hips. He started with slow, gentle thrusts to let you get used to him. But eventually, he couldn't resist picking up the pace.

You did ask for it rough, after all.

So he gave you what you asked for. He attacked your neck and collarbones with kisses, leaving sloppy spit marks all over your skin. The two of you were moaning and groaning in sync, the bed squeaking almost as loud.

He couldn't keep his lips off of you, sucking your skin hard and kissing you so deeply that your teeth were touching a few times.

He was trying to stay quiet so he could listen to your moans, but he couldn't hold them back. You felt incredible, like a warm wet hug. Like your body was made for him and only him. He fit perfectly inside of you, be it a bit snug.

He fisted the sheets under him and at this point he was going much quicker than he thought he could, which was almost overwhelming for you.

But it was just right. It was perfect.

So you frowned a little bit when he pulled out of you.

"Roll on your stomach," he commanded. You did, and he pulled a pillow over for you to lay your head on. He bent your left leg and when he was back into position, he held it in place with his knee. Your other leg was straight under him, your foot hanging off the bed.

You felt his hands on your lower back, his palms right on top of the dimples above your ass cheeks. He slid back into you, and this position felt even better.

"That okay?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," was all you could get out, so he kept going. Him holding your body down and slamming into you was a sensation you'd never experienced, it was nearly impossible to explain. All you could do was grip the pillow under your head.

He leaned down and kissed between your shoulder blades, leaving prints of his lips with his saliva.

"Goddamn, you feel good," he grunted, his fingers digging into your skin. He couldn't take his eyes off your back, littered with freckles. Your hair cascaded over your skin and in your face, and he noticed how perfectly beautiful you looked right now. Face buried in his pillow, ass jiggling with every thrust.

Fuck, he might be in love.

But the cherry on top was when you moaned his name. Your voice, the tone, the neediness, the desperation. He knew he was going to bust at any second, which was a first for him. Normally he lasted a while, but something about you was different. Maybe it was just how long he'd fantasized about this, how he was far more attracted to you than any other girl he'd slept with, he wasn't sure.

But you did something nobody else could do, which was gotten him there in less than five minutes.

And he decided he wanted to look into your eyes when he came.

So he pulled out of you quickly and rolled you back over, your head still on the pillow. He immediately slammed back into you and held your face with one hand as he kissed you, his other hand next to your shoulder to keep himself up.

"Y/N," he breathed.

"Hm?"

"I've never been so close so quickly before. I'm gonna cum."

"Good."

The hand he used to hold you still moved down to finger you, and you gasped into the kiss. He looked at you when you threw your head back, moving his lips to your jaw and neck again but still looking at your face, wanting to hear you.

And, like something out of a movie, both of you went over the edge simultaneously. It was intense, cumming while being fucked. You'd never experienced this, and it felt like you were going to melt right into the bed.

He kept going for as long as he could, but eventually he had to stop. You laid there panting, his face against your chest and your hands on his sides.

"Holy fuck," you said after a moment. He chuckled, shaking you and the bed under him.

"Yeah. Holy fuck." You lifted his head and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. "You okay?"

"I'm amazing."

"You really are."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making my first time memorable."

"I should thank you, too."

"Me? Why?"

"I think that was the best sex I've ever had."

"No shit."

"Shit."

"Well, damn. You're welcome, then."

"You said something about... Every time earlier?"

"You're still inside of me and you're already thinking about doing it again?"

"What, you're not?"

You chuckled, noticing how hot and sweaty both of you were. It was kind of gross, but you didn't care in the moment.

And you knew he made your request come true. You were not going to be able to walk properly for a little while.

[another-random-paradise]

Your writing was adorable! I have a headcanon request for TWST. Feel free to ignore if it's not interesting, I won't mind. (￣▽￣)=3

Lilia, Leona, Azul (or whomever as long as Lilia is there)'s reaction to crush!reader sleepily telling them they want to marry them one day.

I'm a sap for mushy things. ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

A sleepy confession

Thank you so much for the request, it's adorable!! and of course, thank you for the compliments too! I'm a sucker for mushy things too, so this was so much fun to write!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crush!Reader sleepily telling him, they want to marry him / Part two

Characters: Lillia, Leona, Azul

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None that i can think off

Lillia

-you probably found silver asleep somewhere comfortable and instead of waking him up like usual (cause you're a good friend) you decide to also lay down and sleep... You most likely had History with professor Trein before this.

-Lillia just happened to be nearby, or maybe he was keeping an eye on silver, yk, like a good dad :D

- If you're napping under a tree, he might just be sitting on one of the branches

-You'd sleepily look up to him on the branches, as the old fae smiles down at you, and you, probably already half a sleep and maybe even thinking it's a dream, mumble out a soft "I wanna marry you one day.." 

-poor guy almost fell out off the tree

-you can't just do that to his old heart!! You can and you did

-his expression would soften, like he'd still be smiling, but it wouldn't be his typical trickster kinda smile (please tell me you know what i mean)

-Despite his usual attitude, I feel like he was very worried about loving you. I'm a huge believer in the Idea that fae usually only fall in love once, so after Meleanor, he believed that was it, he'd never love again. And then you came into his life, like a shining star, guiding him out of the darkness.  

-While he was grateful that he got a second chance at love, especially with someone as amazing as you, it's also nerve wrecking for him. The last and only time before this, he had his heart broken and ended up raising her son. Just the thought of the same thing happening again terrified him.

-But after what you just said, he won't need to worry about that anymore, right?

-Now he just needs to come up with the best way to confess... maybe he could cook you something! 

Leona

-Due to Leona being a bit of a tsundere, I don't feel like he'd get you to cuddle/sleep with him before officially dating

-BUT, if you two got paired together for a project, especially if it's in the botanical garden, chances are very high, you are doing the project and he's napping

-and doing a project by yourself gets you tired, especially one meant for magic as a magicless student, so you eventually lie down next to him

-due to his sensitive hearing, he lazily opens eyes, and sees you, already half asleep, looking at him, confusing him at first not that he's complaining, till.. "Despite you making me do this project by myself, i somehow i still wanna marry you some day" and just like that you're asleep.

-He, on the other hand, is suddenly very wide awake. 

-what?? you didn't mean that, right?? that's just the tiredness speaking, right?? you couldn't have meant that, right? why, or rather how, could you like him of all people?....He can't imagine being anyone's, let alone your, first choice. He's so used to being second.

-For the first time in forever, he is fully awake and can't go back to sleep, just what are you doing to him, Herbivore? 

-But this means you like him back, right? alright fine, he'll put some work into confessing, just don't expect anything to grand

-He'd still be awake once you wake up again, much to your confusion, but still deliberately refuse to help. Not a word of what you said is spoken, but if you look closely enough you'll see the blush on his cheeks!

Azul

-You wanted to rest after a long day, maybe even after a long shift at the mostro lounge, and Azul was gracious enough to let you rest on one of the couches in the VIP room, while he worked. He actually wanted to appear like a gentleman in front of you and impress you.

-You can't convince me that those couches aren't comfortable. Which is why you almost immediately fall asleep the moment you lay down.

-But before you do, you make one last comment "I already want to marry you one day as is, but if it means I get to rest like this every night, I'll buy the ring tomorrow"

-If a student walked in right now, they might just confuse him with a crashed pc; or maybe with riddle, considering how red he is

-Just completely stops everything he's doing, he's in shock. he doesn't believe he can actually be loved

-It genuinely shocks him so much that you actually like him back, let alone want to marry him, but he can't say he isn't happy! So him being even more of a gentleman to you and giving you countless discounts worked! (You actually already liked him before that! but he was to busy being insecure to notice)

-Immediately starts working on a relationship contract for you two, hell, you said you want to marry him, right?? might as well start working on the marriage certificate!

-He continues to be absolutely flustered as he writes the two contracts, if either of the twins saw him right now, he'd never hear the end of it!

-Prepare to be asked to dinner at the most romantic table in the mostro lounge with Azul, where he will then ask you out and discusses your relationship as if it was a business meeting :)

Ahhhh my first request, thank you so much again for your kind words and the adorable request, I truly hope i lived up to it's greatness <3

I'm still in book 4, so i tried to write Lilia as in-character as possible based on what i saw of him during events and from other writers :)

feedback is welcomed, just be Kind! Hope you all have a lovely day/night!

[thef1diary]

💭 on my mind: I can’t stop thinking about using Charles as a sleep aid (or more like his dick) like just being unable to fall asleep and he wakes up because you’re moving around and he just knows what you need. Just some soft sleepy sex 🥵

Use Me | C. Leclerc

absolutely loved this idea omg I had sm fun with this.

warnings: 18+ smut, very poetic descriptions of sex ngl, unprotected sex, riding, just soft sleepy smut as requested

wc: 660

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

You lie in bed, tossing and turning, the weight of the day still heavy upon your shoulders, refusing to slip into the comforting embrace of sleep. Your mind racing, thoughts swirling like a storm. But amidst the chaos, you glance at Charles who is still blissfully asleep. One idea persists as you look at him, growing stronger with each passing moment.

His silhouette is barely visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains. He sleeps peacefully, undisturbed by the turmoil raging within you. You hesitate, unsure if you should disturb his slumber, but after tossing and turning a couple more times, the decision is made for you. He moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking his head in the crook of your neck.

“Can’t sleep, ma belle?” He mutters, his voice deep, lined with sleep while his eyes flutter open for a moment, drowsy and confused.

His voice only adds on to the growing need between your legs, and you press your thighs together in a failed attempt to relieve it.

You shake your head, “no, Charles. Please?” You turn towards him, facing him while your hand runs down his bare chest, feeling every ridge of muscle until you’re stopped by the hem of his boxers. He knows without words what you need, what you crave from him.

Without a word, he turns to lie flat on his back, taking you with him, allowing you to straddle his thighs. Your head buried into the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, already beginning to find solace in the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before whispering the words that ignited your body with desire. “Use me.”

In the hushed stillness of the night, his touch is like a balm to your restless soul. His warmth seeps into your bones, calming the frantic thoughts that have plagued you, that have taken away your ability to fall asleep. With his caress of his fingers on your cheek, each whispered word of comfort, you feel yourself surrendering to the peace only he can offer.

The desire that sparks between you two isn’t one of passion or urgency, simply just a gentle, tender longing born from the need for connection.

Both of your clothes are quickly shed, punctuated by the sound of your sigh as you sink down on him, pressing your hands against his chest to stabilize yourself. Charles’ hands rest on your hips, urging you with light squeezes, sinful words, and breathy moans leaving his lips.

As the minutes tick by, you feel the tension slowly drain from your body, replaced by a profound sense of peace and thoughts of only him.

He thrusts his hips up a couple times, catching you by surprise, draining your energy even further when he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing slow enticing circles.

Charles sees your eyes drooping while you struggle to keep up the pace to bring yourself over the edge. He tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you closer before rolling over on the bed to take control.

Still keeping the slow and steady pace, he deepens his thrusts, watching you grab onto the sheets above your head to ground yourself.

In the silent intimacy of the night, you find yourselves entwined in a slow, unhurried dance of bodies, feeling the sweat on your skin gather and shine in the glimmer of the moonlight trickling in.

Soon enough, both of you reach your orgasms, allowing all the tension to seep away from you as the mixed cum drips out of you and onto the sheets below.

As sleep finally claims you, it’s not just the exhaustion that lulls you into slumber, but the comforting presence of Charles pressed up behind you, a beacon of relief in your restless mind. Together you drift off into dreams, wrapped in the warm embrace of his arms.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @jointhehunt67 @bokutos-babyowl @sya-skies @charlesleclercsonlywife @dreamingonbed @wonnou @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet

[miaoua3]

(pairing: wonwoo x f!reader)

you huff tiredly while laying down on the couch, feeling like you were about to fall asleep any minute now, but also like something was preventing you from doing so.

you turn back around for the nth time, staring tiredly at the ceiling. picking up the phone to look at the time, you see that it’s only 11pm.

huffing yet again as you drop your phone, your ears pick up the noise of the keyboard being aggressively pressed repeatedly from the bedroom that you share with your boyfriend.

deciding that enough is enough, you get up and walk to your room.

wonwoo, ever the perfect looking man that he is, is sitting in his chair, leaned back while typing on the keyboard at the speed of light, eyebrows furrowed in what you know to be frustration.

but you ignore the possibility that he might be irritated and/or angry.

this isn’t about him.

this is about the cuddles.

quickly walking up to him, you tap his shoulder to get his attention.

startled, he pauses the game briefly, sliding down his headphones as he looks at you questionably.

“hi love, do you need something? or did i wake you up maybe? i’m so sorr-“, he tries to finish.

you ignore the words coming out of his mouth, and instead just lift one of his arms away from the desk. sliding between the desk and himself, you then struggle for a bit as you try to sit yourself on his lap sideways, being very careful not to kick anything with your foot.

wonwoo, seeing what you were attempting to do, smiles as he takes both of his hands to pull you closer to himself, manoeuvring you so easily as if you weighed nothing.

finally being comfortable on his lap, you loop your arms around his neck before you let your head rest on his shoulder.

wonwoo looks down at you for a bit before pressing a kiss to your hair, reaching for his keyboard with his hands.

but at that action, you just whine in protest.

confused, he just mumbles a little “hm?” to you.

sleepily you mumble back “i’m sleepy but can’t fall asleep”.

finally realising that your plan all along was to interrupt his game and distract him, before telling him that you want to sleep and for him to join you, wonwoo chuckles a bit before he responds with a little “okay.”

he quickly saves his game and turns off his pc, all while you float in and out of sleep.

after a minute or so, he finally pushes his chair away before he grabs you tightly and stands up. crossing the room in few steps, he gently lays your form on your side of the bed, before rounding the bed to his own.

quickly getting in the bed, he drops his glasses on the nightstand before he turns off the light.

finally, he scoots closer to you, bringing his arms around your body and pulling your warm form closer to his.

by the time he kisses your temple gently and whispers a little “good night”, you are already (or in your case, finally) asleep.

when you wake up the next morning, you will realise the thing that was missing the previous night was the peace that the love of your life brings to you.

[nervoushottee]

never like this | eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary: your house never feels like home, but Eddie does.

Note: idk what’s happening but I’m on a roll guys and I’m not going to jinx it. Enjoy some cute fluff domestic bliss and love with Eddie!! MWAH

*listened to Rachel Chinouriri- So My Darling on REPEAT while writing this*

**not edited**

The morning was still early.

The simple sounds of the mourning dove’s call and Eddie’s snoring filled your ears as you slowly woke. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you feel the gentle grip of Eddie’s hand against your waist from your sudden movements. He’s still asleep, his body just subconsciously making sure you were still there in his bed. Not already putting your clothes back on to go home or head to work.

Your smile softly at the thought. Kissing the closet patch of his skin that you could find. Lips meeting the ink covered skin of his arm.

The sun peeking through the tapestry covered window. Slowly but surely starting to warm the trailer from the cool night air. It never felt like this. You could see small specks of dust dancing around in the rays of sun. You hands itching to stretch out and touch as if it was something physical. Your heart felt warm and you felt safe.

You feel Eddie move from behind you. You know this isn’t a small little shift in his body from sleeping. He was awake.

“You snore in your sleep.” you whisper.

“Shut up.” he grumbles against the back of your shoulder.

You snort, turning around to fully face him. His hair was all over the place and messy. His eyes squinty from just waking up and the yellow sunlight peeking into his room. Despite the sleepiness in his eyes and the annoyance in his voice from your words. He smiled at you.

A soft sleepy smile that made his eyes nearly close from how low they were in the first place.

You feel his hand that was on your waist glide up beneath his shirt you wore to sleep the night before and against your back. His hand bigger and warmer than yours as he affectionately rubs your back up and down. Melting your heart even more than it already was this morning.

“It’s never like this.” you mutter out

“Hm?”

“Back home. It never feels like this.” You tell him quietly almost as if you spoke any louder Wayne would hear you all the way at his work desk.

And of the things you liked the most about Eddie; Is how attentive he is. It doesn’t matter what it was, but Eddie never not paid attention to something (unless he was doing it on purpose). He read people very easily. Picked up on nonverbal cues and even when you said things that had a bigger meaning. This was one of those times.

Eddie knew what you were talking about. He didn’t have to ask you to elaborate or confused on what you even meant.

Your family was well off. Like, really well off. Your parents were friends with Steve's parents. Your house being three doors down from his, he’s practically like a brother to you. Living in a three story house that came with a basement bar and an outdoor pool. A chef that would come once every two weeks to cook you food if your parents were out of town for too long. Enough money that you could probably buy out Family Video if you wanted. You would think that it would feel perfect. That there's was nothing else you could want or ever need. And it was true, you had enough. That house had everything you would need to last a year without your parents if need be. But it wasn’t a home.

This was home.

Waking up in Eddie’s bed in the morning. Or getting up in the middle of the night to go use the restroom and seeing Wayne in the dimly lit kitchen when you were out. Quietly sipping on cups of hot coffee and whispering stories about the shaggy haired boy down the hall. (Wayne could only sneak and drink coffee. Ever since Eddie found out that the doctor suggested Wayne cut out caffeine for his heart. Eddie has been very strict about it.)

Home was walking over to Max’s trailer for her to help you teach her how to skateboard as Eddie work on his van. It was sitting on the trailer steps side by side, Leaning into Eddie’s shirt stained with car grease as you share an icecream from the icecream truck. Home was crying in the shower as Eddie held you whenever you thought about nights you wished you would forget.

This was home.

Despite not elaborating on your words. You could feel the understanding in Eddie’s eyes. You could see the warm hints of pink grow on his cheeks and just a bit down his neck. His smile turns more soft and serene as he continues to watch you fidget with the bedsheet.

He knows you feel nervous, to say this out loud and in front of him. He knew you didn’t want to put anything on this yet, and he would never push you. But to hear those words come out of your mouth made him feel like he would never need the formalities. To never have the “What are we?” talk. As long as it felt like this. As long as you kept looking at him with such adoration in your eyes. He would honestly die happy.

“So. Is it me or is it just my bitchin’ trailer?” he mumbles. His voice is low and groggy, filled with sleep as his smile grows into a smirk.

You scoff out at laugh and roll your eyes. Turning away so your back is against his chest. The original position you were in before you woke up. You grab his hand, place it beneath your shirt and against your chest. Eddie can feel your heart beating slow and steady. A calm pace that makes his own heart flutter at the peace you feel within his presence.

What makes him nearly say the three words that would probably ruin it all is when he feels you place your hand on top of his. His heart melts as he hears you let out a deep sigh. A known indication to him that you are relaxed and more than likely will go back to sleep if you're comfortable enough.

Instead, he simply kisses your clothed shoulder. Once, twice, three times. Before letting his head fall back into the pillow and closing his eyes.

Yeah, his life didn’t feel like this either.

Not without you here with him.

[osamucide]

gladly

gladly i’ll burn up for you if you burn up for me

NSFW—MINORS DNI

wc: 1.2k

cw: dazai x gn!reader, explicit sexual content, no plot just horny and fluffy, established relationship, somno(?)(sleepy, anyway), handjob, grinding, nipple play, use of “baby,” “darling,” pillow princess dazai my most beloved

reid: this position bruh i’m going to go so feral that i eat my own hand. not the smut i intended to publish next but apparently the smut i needed to publish next. a little something short while i put off a longer dazai smut. i <3 soft lazy dazai enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

You know mornings like this should be rarer than they are.

His charming insistence, however muted by his sleep-addled laziness, hardly ever fails on you. In fact, it all might make him more tempting—that, the warmth of newly recharged bodies, the honey behind his drooping eyelids, the wandering of his hands and rolling of his hips against yours that feels so sweetly and foreignly unmapped and confused, yes, it’s equal parts all those things and you’re sure some others that you can’t conjure up into words through your early-hour fog. Yes, very few things Osamu ever does without meticulous planning, but he does let a certain vulnerability crack through on mornings like this, a vulnerability that’s evident in between his parting lips and the soft, unpracticed whines that live and die there. And yes, you’re one of the primary reasons—if not the primary reason—Osamu’s so often late to show up to work, but it’s difficult for you to feel guilty when your senses find their way back to the waking realm amongst his pretty sounds rumbling from his chest into your ear, his back arching back against your touch, and his soft brown hair splayed around his head like a halo.

The rational side of you should be dragging your dear boyfriend up and out of bed but it appears to still be asleep as you let your fingertips creep beneath his waistband. You shut the morning light out in favor of pressing your eyes beneath his collarbone; your thumb finds his tip, and if you weren't on the threshold of consciousness you would let out a giggle at the way his breath catches. You can feel Osamu's fingers curling tenderly around your wrist—a silent plea for you to keep going, touch him more, and you'll oblige, but you have to kiss the triangle of his shoulder first, so you do; your tongue deftly finds his nipple, and he's so pliant half-beneath you that you can slot his thigh between both of your own—it’s all you'll need, you can tell, as his head dips to the side on the pillow to catch a half-lidded glimpse of you working him into a mess so early and so easily. He'll return the favor without even trying, just by laying there and letting you move the way you do; he's so gorgeous all bleary from slumber, palming your lower back to guide you against him. You move. You move, looking up at him like he’s an angel, and his vision melts to warm darkness again. It's all he'll need, too.

You’d think he was falling back asleep if it wasn’t for the slow and steady bucking of his hips up into your hand. Winding your fingers around his base elicits a whine from his diaphragm—one you can hear against him as your own eyes roll shut and your tongue continues to idle. It’s all so natural, the way you stroke him, lick him, grind on him, that you feel yourself slipping back into unconsciousness. It’s his noises that you hang on for.

He’s far from alert, but words tumble out in whispers.

“Baby, it feels so good, don’t stop…”

You hum, more in response to his mumblings and less from the friction you create against his thigh; nonetheless, you’re sensitive, and as you keep rhythm along his cock he flexes against you and the way that you feel, splitting the line of slumber and wakefulness and writhing hotly against your lover, is divine.

You wish you could live in this kind of moment for the rest of your life. Too often you find yourself overwhelmed; regrettably and even more often you find Osamu overwhelmed. It’s never so obvious to anyone as it is to you, so he doesn’t tend to let on to anyone but you, and maybe that’s why you keep things like this sacred, because for once he doesn’t seem to be thinking, analyzing, inquiring, even how he does when you regularly have sex—forever the pleaser, he’s always looking to you with eyes asking questions like is it enough? Even outside of sex, god, in every aspect—you know he never stops wondering the same thing about himself: is it enough? Does it feel good? Am I enough? And the answer you give him is always a resounding yes, and you want so badly for him to believe you because he’s just as much your angel as you are his. You hope that mornings like this communicate it louder than your reassurances can. Your pleasure—in everything, in life—is so vividly amplified by his wellness, his peace, his own pleasure. You love him so deeply. He loves you like a stray cat finally living in comfort. You’ll never let a morning like this slip.

“Right there, right there,” he encourages as you squeeze just below his tip; his head lolls from side to side almost as if he’s dreaming (sometimes he thinks he is with you) and you track his movements through your own bliss, dragging your hips back and forth desperately as you double down on the spot that forces full-bodied moans from his pretty mouth. He’s close, he begs you; you’re frantic on his thigh, feeling yourself cum in a haze that has him tensing—you grind harder, harder, harder, sighing out his name until you’re spent so you can prop yourself up on your elbow to watch his face in the thickly-curtained sunlight.

“Oh, fuck, fuck— fuhhh— ah, uh-huh, ah—”

His eyes flicker open to catch your tired smile and he’s cumming—his grip on your ass is the only thing grounding him as his jaw falls slack, your lashes flutter in pure satisfaction, and he twitches, sent to the clouds by his beloved who looks at him with such adoration that he catches himself believing for a second that he must be beautiful; you work incredible magic on him. His brain and his body, both so used to neglect and abuse, finally feel like fruitful grounds for love. He finally feels whole as his cum drips down your fingers.

It is then that you do giggle and lean down to place a quick kiss to his nipple; he’s breathless, pink in the face, and you know you couldn’t love him more, and yet you will as each second passes.

Osamu brings his hand up to your hair, and your next kiss lands on his lips as he wills you down. It’s tender and lasts much longer than expected—you almost start your hips against him again, but the snoozed alarm at your bedside rings for the fourth time. You glance over. He was supposed to be out the door five minutes ago.

“Oh, shut it off,” he groans resentfully.

“As if.” You press one more kiss to his cheek before you unpeel yourself from him and punch the ringer into silence. “I’ll put coffee on.”

“Shower with me before I go, please.” He rubs his eyes and sits up. You strip out of your sticky shorts.

“Of course, darling.”

You pad to the kitchen. He watches you go with a warmth he didn’t know himself to be capable of.

And a smirk.

Maybe he can talk you into one more round in the bathroom.

[thestarlightexpress]

Kinktober Day 5 - Monsterfucking - Tarquin x Reader

TW: sexual themes including shapeshifting and beast forms

word count: 1.71k

A/N: my baby Tarquin doesn't get enough love but it's alright, i love him enough to make up for it

Kinktober Masterlist

NSFW under the cut

You woke up to the morning sun’s rays barely peeking over the shores of Adriata, the crisp white sheets of your bed caressing your pale legs. You threw an arm over your closed eyes, not ready to meet the day yet. A few hours ago, you had been so comfortable - curled into your mate’s side, the salty sea breeze lulling you to sleep. 

Your other hand flailed around the other side of the bed searching for your High Lord, only to find empty sheets. Your head shot up, seeing that he was nowhere to be found in your bedroom.

Softer light peaked through the door leading to your washroom before Tarquin peered around the doorjamb. He smiled and softly chuckled at his very sleepy mate before walking over towards you. You started to stretch across the bed, willing your body to start waking up. “Why are you up so early, my love? The sun isn’t even properly up yet,” you were quite confused by his behavior this morning, knowing he preferred to stay wrapped up in your embrace until you both woke up naturally. 

He gripped your calves and pulled you up to the edge of the bed. You sat up and nuzzled your head in his chest as you wrapped your arms around his middle. “You’re so warm, come back to bed.”

Tarquin pulled up your shirt - his shirt really - to sit around your waist as his hands rubbed up and down your back. “Not right now. I have a fun idea and it’s best to do it before the sun is fully up.”

Your head popped up and you quirked an eyebrow at him, “Now what is that supposed to mean?” 

Tarquin just gripped your arms and hoisted you up to stand. He tugged you close to him, resting a strong hand on your ass. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you all the details, silly. Now go get dressed.”

You sighed deeply and padded over to your closet. “Make sure it’s something that can get wet,” he added cheekily before swiftly spanking your ass. You looked back and shook your head admonishingly. While you did greatly appreciate having a mate who essentially treated you like a goddess, the sheer amount of mind-blowing sex could be exhausting. 

“On the topic of clothing, I sure hope you’re planning on wearing something besides that. I wouldn’t imagine the people would take too kindly to their High Lord strolling around in just your underwear, as attractive as it may be,” you sneered over your shoulder as you quickly stripped out of last night’s shirt and into a teal tunic and your favorite white and gold cotton shorts. 

Tarquin playfully winked at you before slipping on similarly colored items, always feeling the need to match with his High Lady. He turned around to grip your hand before winnowing you out to one of the gates on the side of the palace. He quickly led you down the steps with a sly smile on his face.

You started to giggle once he led you toward a small beach, hidden behind and out of view of the main city. “Well now I wonder what you could possibly have in store for us this fine morning, darling?”, you added sardonically. 

You both stepped onto the beach and found a nice outcropping to set your shoes on. Tarquin went to lead you into the water but found you sitting down in the sand, staring off at the shoreline. “Just a minute,” you murmured. The sight of the sun cresting over the waves, pushing the pink and lilac night sky away, left you breathless. Moments like these were some of the only times you could find true serenity. 

This moment of peace had been exactly what you had been looking for to start the day properly. Sensing that you were ready from the tranquility radiating down the bond, Tarquin offered his hand to you and pulled you up, embracing you in a tender kiss. “Ready, my love?”

You nodded and he led you into the soothing water, padding over to a concealed cove. You both dropped down into the cove, swimming down into the large grotto below. In the middle was a submerged sandbar, flanked by seaweed and coral.

Thank the Mother that your High Lord and Lady powers allowed you to breathe underwater, there’s no way you could properly have the time to appreciate it otherwise. While being muffled, you could thankfully still speak to each other while underwater. 

Tarquin sat you down on the edge of the sandbar and swam in place in front of you. “So what is this fun plan you have in mind?”, you tipped your head to the side and took him in. He was truly in his element in his waters. 

He softly grabbed your hands, “I’ve been messing around with transforming into my beast form - or my alter ego as you so lovingly call it - trying to only shift part of myself. Anyway, I think I finally figured it out.”

A slight smile grazed your lips and you leaned back on your hands, “Well let’s see then, Mister High Lord.”

He rolled his eyes at your antics before the sea around him started shifting, bubbles and seafoam swirling around him. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as his legs started to shift into a large teal serpent’s tail, quite akin to his massive sea serpent beast form. The tail was covered in an ombre spread of azure scales that started to blend into the deep brown skin around his waist. 

Your eyes skimmed over his entire form. It was amazing to see how he could control the transformation enough to keep his torso and above in his normal fae form. You tamped down your amazement, not wanting to give too much away. “Quite impressive, I wonder what else you can do like that?”, you added a teasing wink at the end. 

Tarquin swam towards you and caged your chest under his as you leaned back. He started leaving open-mouthed kisses up your neck before whispering in your ear, “Any ideas, my love?”

You wrapped your arms around his waist before pulling back to face him. Feigning ignorance to your baser desires, “Nothing in particular,” you could tell that he easily saw through you.

Tarquin started to nibble at his favorite spot right under your ear. “Are you sure about that, sweetheart? Because I think I might know what you’re thinking - you want to know if I can fuck you like this, don’t you?”

The mere idea of that had your core sparking with arousal. You moaned in agreement, feeling him smirk against you. Tarquin picked you up and moved you further back onto the sandbar so you could lie down.

He quickly removed your tunic and shorts while continuing to leave love bites along your neck and shoulders. His hand drifted down to your core and two fingers slipped into your entrance and expertly stretched you open. Your hand rose up to card through his locks while the other blindly felt around for his member. 

In this new form, his cock was a bit longer and thicker. Most noticeably different, the tip narrowly tapered off quite differently than the rounded head you were used to. The texture was also different - now ribbed in a way that you could tell would feel amazing inside you. 

He groaned as you gripped his cock in your hand and slowly stroked it. You pleasured each other for a few minutes before you couldn’t take it anymore - you needed him inside you. You bit into his neck before whimpering from need, “Gods please fuck me, I need you.”

He grinned and you felt him twitch in your hand. Tarquin gripped your thighs and moved to spread your legs farther, “As my Lady wishes.”. The pointed tip of his cock inched forward to press against your entrance. The water along with your slick allowed him to easily slip deep into you with a single thrust. 

A tsunami-like wave of his power accompanied the thrust, his magic amplified in this form. You instinctually wrapped your legs around his waist. He started to buck into you, dragging the ribs of his cock against your sensitive folds with each stroke. “By the Gods - you feel fucking amazing, baby.” You were barely staving off your impending orgasm. It only took a few more strokes before you tightened around him and your legs shook. 

He kissed you and lightly chuckled in your mouth, “Fuck baby, you’re already cumming for me? We’ll have to do this much more often if you’re going to cum like that.” His hands squeezed up and down your legs, helping the strung muscles relax. 

Spurred on by the bliss of your orgasm, his thrusts gained speed as he thoroughly fucked you into the sand. “Fuck, your cunt is always so good for me - so tight, squeezing me just the right way.”

You blushed madly at the praise, “Feels good, baby? Keep fucking me just like that, harder!” You gripped his shoulders as his thrusts became chaotic and uneven.

He growled against your neck, the force of his thrusts making you see stars. “That’s it right there. I’m going to fill up that deliciously tight pussy with my cum until you’re so full that it leaks out of you.” 

His words were already making you fall over the edge again, “Yes baby, keep fucking me just like that. Please fill me up with your cum, I need it!” 

You reached up and pulled him down to you. His lips roughly brushed against yours and your tongue slipped into his mouth. You felt his roaring groan as he tumbled over the edge before filling you up with his cum. The narrow tip of his cock had his cum sit so deep inside of you, it was like nothing you’d ever felt.

Tarquin slowly pulled out of you before transforming back to his normal form. You softly panted against each other. “I do have to say, that surprise was worth getting up early for.” He nuzzled his nose into your neck as you cuddled in the sand for a time before resurfacing back up to the beach.

[rowdyluv]

Lies, Lies, Lies jh86

summary: in which Jack returns home after practice feeling better about the situation they had been put in, but it’s when explaining everything to Y/n she lets a big secret she’d held on to out of the bag.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: flashback insert, fluff -> angst -> needing, sad jack(?), use of y/n, profanity, nicknames, a lot of dialogue

notes: self protection (I made myself cry a little) the flashback is indented and italicized, pardon the wait, life has been a bit crazy recently. *see second note after fic*

© property of rowdyluv ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

Jack pushed open the apartment door, the cool evening breeze whispering a gentle greeting as it trailed in behind him. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, casting a warm halo around the soft figure curled up on the couch. "Y/n," he murmured, his voice barely disturbing the quiet, "you fell asleep on the couch again." Jack picked up the book that had fallen into the floor and sat it on the table.

Her hair spilled over the couch's arm, and her chest rose and fell with each peaceful breath. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, so peacefully lost to the world in her slumber. For a moment, Jack debated whether to let her sleep, but the looming shadow of the reality of how close the gala was weighed on him. The charity gala was a big night in itself, and now it’s even bigger for them.

He sat on the edge of the couch cushion next to her, his movements as delicate as a kitten. He didn't want to startle her. Gently, he touched her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake. He watched her intently, his heart skipping a beat as he contemplated the words he needed to say, how to tell her the convoluted plan that was constructed.

He leaned over slightly, reached up towards her face and barely ran the back of his fingers across her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a pair of sleepy pools that searched for understanding in the dimly lit room. She blinked a few times before finally focusing on him.

"Jack," she whispered, her voice groggy with sleep. "What time is it?"

“Hi there, sleepy girl. It’s a little after 6.” Jack chuckled as she jolted up in a seated position.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise and she pushed the mess of her hair back out of her face, and took a few moments before looking back at him trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. She met his gaze with confusion as his own gaze held nervousness? Worry?

Jack felt his heart race as he gathered the words that had been playing on his mind all day. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. "Y/n, I need to tell you something important."

The seriousness etched in his expression had her readjusting and she sat up fully, pushing aside the very old maple leafs blanket she hadn't realized she'd been using. It's a blanket from Jack’s childhood that typically stays hidden from everyone, but it’s one of her favorites in the apartment for when he’s gone. It permanently smells like him, no matter how many times you wash it. Or maybe it’s just her brain making her think it does, either way it’s now also her comfort item, not just his.

"Okay," she said, her voice soft and a little hint of a nervous tone. "What's going on?"

Jack leaned closer, talking softer as if someone else could hear him, his eyes never leaving hers. "You know the charity gala coming up? The one I've been telling you about?" He paused, watching for her nod before continuing. "I've worked with the PR team to settle everything." Jack kept his eyes on her’s,

“And this is one of the events I have to go to?” She asks hesitantly.

Jack nods solemnly before going into explaining the details of what was made up for them.

"Yeah," Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper, "but I don't have anything to wear for something like that. I've never really... you know, done the fancy thing." She felt self-conscious suddenly, her eyes dropping to her worn out canucks t-shirt and leggings.

“Of course you have?” Jack asks incredulously. “You’ll go look at some dresses like you did for prom. Find one you like and I’ll pay for it. Just maybe don’t get prom fancy, you don’t need poofy princess. Something nice to go with a suit.” Jack smiled.

Y/n’s face fell. “Guess I walked myself into telling you now.” She murmured. “Jack, I didn't go to our prom. Truthfully, I didn’t do much of anything after you left in November.”

“Then why did Lu..” He started to ask but she cut him off.

“I threatened Luke with his life to not tell you the truth. I told him to stick to the story I had come up with.” Y/n ashamedly admitted.

Jack’s signature golden boy smile disappeared, and his eyes searched hers, then he searched her face, desperately looking for a sign that she was joking with him. He swallowed hard, feeling like a knife had been thrust into his chest.

"What do you mean you didn't go to prom? You were so excited every time we talked about it?" Jack shifted to sit on the coffee table across from her.

“It’s no big deal now. It can’t be changed, let’s not worry about it. What we should worry about is that I’m not really sure what to shop for?” It came out more like a question than anything.

Jack felt a twinge of anger, his mind racing with questions and accusations. He had missed so much of her life in those few months. He felt like he had failed her, like he wasn’t there when she needed him. She had told him time and time again that she had the perfect dress, the guy she had been crushing on asked her to prom, and that she was super excited about it all.

When did things change?

When did Luke decide that he could lie to him?

He took a deep breath, trying to push down the emotions that threatened to spill over. "Okay," he said through gritted teeth, “I’ll be back in a little bit. I just need to process this. Lukey keeping something from me, you? You lying to me…”

“What, Jack?” Worry filled her voice. Jack paused mid-step and turned to look at her. “I can explain. Ple-“

“I’m sure you had a valid reason for it. We can talk later.” Jack slipped his shoes on and walked out the door. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to leave to clear his head for something in the past or why he didn’t just hear her out now, but he did know that he needed one person and that one person was states over.

Sitting in his car he took his phone out of pocket and absentmindedly dialed his mom’s number, it connected within seconds.

“Hi honey, how are you?” Ellen’s sweet soft voice sounded like a hug that he needed so desperately.

“Momma.” He gasped as if he had been holding his breath. “Can we talk? I don’t know what to say to Y/n without making the situation bigger..” Jack pleaded and Ellen sighed softly with a ‘mhmm’ of acknowledgment.

“I must say, it’s nice that you’re calling about something other than hockey troubles. But I wondered how long before you two would have your first argument.” Jack grimaced. Hating that he was upset with his best friend for lying to him when they’re lying to everyone else. “Okay, Jack let’s talk.”

“Mom, did you know she didn’t go to prom? Did you lie to me too? Or was it just her and Luke? Or oh my god… does everyone know but me?” He felt like a little preteen having a melt down over getting their phone taken away, but if she only knew. If anyone else outside of his parents knew what he went through accepting her apparent lie it wouldn’t seem that big of a deal.

There was a long silence except for some shuffling and a door closing on the opposite end before Ellen answered.”Yes.” An evident hard swallow from the mother came through the phone speaker. It was obvious she didn’t want to tell her middle son.

“I know this doesn’t make it better, but I didn’t know until it was too late to get you home. Your father and I decided it was best not to tell you what really happened because it wasn’t going to change anything.” Her voice was soft, an attempt to soothe the hurt she knew he was going to feel.

“It’s one thing if I couldn’t get home, but did you not think of how I would feel if I found out all the people I’ve always trusted kept something from me?” His heart pounding in his chest, a knot in his throat hurting so bad from holding back his cries.

“Momma you know..” Hiccup. “You know she’s it for me, always has been, if I could have done something to stop her from hurting, or, or-“ He was hiccuping trying to hold off crying now and Ellen cut him off.

“That’s just it honey, you couldn’t have done anything. Take a minute to think, how hard was it for you the days after you left home from visiting last year?”

“Pretty hard..”

“Exactly. But you had a job to do, a distraction from the turmoil. Y/n didn’t. She had school and nothing else. There were times she came over and we let her sleep in your bed. Yet instead of sleeping we just heard her cry. The next morning we would always find Luke asleep on the floor. He’d come crying to your father and I about what he needed to do, to be more like you so he could make her happy again. That is why Luke kept quiet. He wanted to be sure to help her, not make it worse. Honey, I’m not telling you this to hurt you worse than you are already. But if you’re truly wanting to know you have to start somewhere. This is the lift of the bandaid. It’s your job to rip it off.”

He sniffled. He hadn’t realized it but a few tears had fallen when his mom was recalling the events.

“Thanks mom. While I have you..could I ask you for a favor? Please.”

“Anything you need.”

“Can you come out to Jersey? If she’s never had the whole shopping for a dress experience and getting ready for something like the gala event, she’s going to want help. And I can’t do that? I don’t know how to do most of that.” He laughs awkwardly. “I know her mom won’t be able to and you would mean just as much.”

Ellen’s heart was so full at Jack’s request. He was feeling torn and broken from all of this evening, yet he still was putting her needs first. “Of course, I can arrange to come down on Friday and stay until Tuesday. Now, you need to go talk with Y/n before she starts calling me too.” Jack hears his dad laugh in the background and he shakes his head knowing it will happen.

They share their goodbyes but he can’t make himself get out of his car just yet. A million thoughts about what his mom told him, about what he doesn’t know vs the version he was told running through his head.

“So,” Jack says, dragging out the ‘O’ after having watched Y/n work on her homework over FaceTime. “Prom is coming up, eh?”

“Yup.” She answers by popping the ‘P’ not bothering to look up.

“What if I come home for a few days, I talked to management and they said I could go for it? We could go together, just like we had planned.” Excitement laced in Jack’s voice.

“Uhh, no need to waste money on a plane ticket. I have a date.” She finally looked up and met Jack’s gaze through the phone. “I’m going with Alex.” She smiled. “He asked me the other day after school. So really, no need Jackey.”

That’s when it hit him. He jumped out of his car and ran back inside to find her.

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out when he found her in the same place he left her. “I.. I should’ve known then you weren’t telling me the truth.” Jack pulled at his hair, before walking up to her taking the spot on the coffee table again.

“Fuck. Toots I’m so sorry. I’ve only ever been Jackey when you really really needed me and I missed it back then.” Jack’s voice was much softer. “If I had just really listened to you that night instead of thinking about how upset I was.”

He reached up with both hands wiping the tears from her cheeks, then pulling her down to cradle her head in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry toots. But please never keep something like your half from me either.” Jack pleaded. He received a soft squeeze in return and he was content with it.

She didn’t know how much he loved holding her or how right it felt for him to hold her in his arms, so he was not going to do anything that caused this moment to end. He could stay this way the rest of the evening.

authors note: hello! thank you for reading this after reading the fic. i had an ask sent in the other day that requested this series be turned into an AU. if this something others are interested in please let me know! thank you🩵

[mortallydeepestobservation]

The holiday pretense -2-

Summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air. Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend. But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request. Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: fake-dating, idiots in love, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: every single trope in the book; but with a twist. Dialogue heavy. OC is really bad at lying, they are absolute idiots. like, there is no way about it. pure idiots. anddd… I didn’t write in literal years so yeah, this is gonna be fun. Yes. It is a warning. Smut warnings: to be added~ Word count: Chapter 2-9k Credits: this was literally one of those ‘if no one is going to write this, I will’ because there are not enough friends-to-lovers Namjoon fics out there. And none (that I know of) where the main character feels bad for lying to his family when pretending to date him. This work would not have been possible without the very kind and patient @callmenoona25, who not only helped me beta-read but also served as a guiding light during those moments when I wanted to rage-delete everything. Thank you for all your help! (and please keep helping me coz idk what I’d do without your constant encouragement) Author's note: We’re already in December. Damn… Enjoy. Merry Christmas. part 1: here, part 2: reading, part 3: here , part 4: here

Namjoon peered down at your sleeping form, his tired eyes tracing the soft, quirky murmurs that drifted from your lips as you burrowed deeper into his chest. What started as a faint whimper blossomed into a quiet, endearing snore, drawing a gentle smile from him.

He hadn’t planned to wake this early, but sleep had eluded him for the fast few hours. These quiet pre-dawn moments usually brought him peace—a hushed pause before the day took over. Today, however, his mind was restless, skimming over scattered thoughts until it inevitably circled back to you.

You looked like a dream. The soft morning light seeped through the curtains, bathing you in a warm, golden glow even as you nestled deeper into his body. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the delicate lines of your face. His eyes lingered on the gentle curve of your lips—the same lips he’d kissed just hours before…

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize how intently he was staring, until your eyes suddenly fluttered open. Instinct kicked in, startled, you both reacted at the same time, and you jumped up just as he tried to lean back. The both of you groaning in unison as you cradle your forehead, which had slammed painfully against his chin.

“What the hell are you doing?” you cry, urgency quickly replacing the sleepiness in your voice.

“You were snoring. I’m sorry,” Namjoon defended, rubbing the spot where you collided.

“I don’t snore!” you glare up at him, eyes finally focusing enough to see the blood gushing from his nose. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You leaned over him to grab a napkin from the bedside table. But still half asleep, the hand you’d placed between his legs couldn’t support your weight, and you crashed right onto his belly, eliciting a loud “oof” as he fell back on his pillow.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, your face smushed against him as you struggle to grab a napkin. In your frantic attempt, you knocked the tissue box off the table, sending tissues whirling to the ground.

“Just- ow!” He winced when you pressed the napkin to his nose, confusion evident on his face. He clearly hadn’t expected blood or to be in such a vulnerable position so early in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” you say for the third time, slightly loosening your grip on his face.

“Stop apologizing,” he mumbled “It’s my fault too.” Namjoon took the tissue from your hands and pressed it harder against his nose trying to suppress the stinging sensation.

You lingered there for a moment, captivated by the tissue grazing his lips, until the warmth of his skin under your cheek snapped you out of it. His shirt had ridden up in the altercation, baring a sliver of his toned stomach, now conveniently pressed against your face.

As if sensing your awareness, Namjoon furrowed his brows and gave you a quizzical look, prompting you to sit upright, the blanket trailing behind you like a cape.

“Yes, it is! What’s wrong with you?” You scolded. “Do you always stare at people when you sleep next to them?”

“I wasn’t staring!” Namjoon’s head shot up; his voice defensive but laced with amusement. “You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” you shot back, despite having no evidence to support your claim. You struggled to untangle yourself from the blanket, nearly tripping in your haste to escape. The bathroom door closed with an accidental slam behind you, leaving you momentarily alone with your spiralling thoughts.

Leaning over the sink, you splashed cold water on your face, the chill biting at your skin and grounding you—if only for a moment. Yet your heart refused to cooperate, its erratic rhythm spiking again when you heard the faint shuffling from the bedroom, followed by a soft, frustrated “Damn it.”

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, meeting your own wide-eyed, dishevelled stare. Tangled hair perfectly framing your flushed cheeks, the hoodie you’d borrowed from Namjoon sitting askew on your shoulders and remnants of sleep clinging stubbornly to your face.

Charming. Just the image you wanted to project.

Then, your gaze drifted to the mint toothpaste sitting on the counter, and a fresh wave of emotions washed over you. It hit you all at once—His lips pressed to yours, the warmth of his breath against your skin, and the look he’d given you after.

 The way he looked at you…like he was searching for something. Or maybe you were imagining it. God, you hoped you were imagining it.

You gripped the edge of the sink, leaning into it as embarrassment burned its way down your spine.

But deep beneath the flurry of second-guessing and distress, you manage to find a crumb of courage while quietly going through the motions.

Taking a shaky breath, you pushed yourself upright and finished the small, familiar task of brushing your teeth. As you twisted the faucet shut, you stole one last glance at your reflection, your eyes searching for reassurance.

With resolve that felt both flimsy and monumental, you stepped back into the bedroom, bracing yourself for whatever came next.

Namjoon was still lying on the bed, a new tissue pressed against his nose. He looked up as you enter, and an unexpected flicker of self-consciousness crept in, making you hyper-aware of every step you took.

 “Are you okay?” You asked, attempting a softer tone.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, lowering the napkin to inspect the bright red spot there. “Just a bit of a love tap, you know?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you shoot back, but the words only made him laugh softly, easing some of the tension in your chest.

You grab a clean tissue and lean in closer to inspect the damage. "I'm really sorry," you say, perching on the edge of the bed. You take the napkin from his hands with little resistance and replace it with your own. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay," he replies, his voice soft. "But next time, maybe warm me about the snoring.”

"I don’t snore!" you exclaimed, the defensiveness in your tone spiking and earning another heartfelt laugh from him.

“Okay, fine. You don’t,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. But just as you were about to relax, he added under his breath, “Next time, I’ll record you.”

You narrowed your eyes and considered actually pinching his nose.

“You’re impossible.”

Namjoon only grinned, dimples deepening, as you carefully pulled the tissue away to dab the remains of the nosebleed. The softness of your touch seemed to quiet him; his teasing replaced by something warmer. There was a tenderness in the way you focused on his injury, small lines of worry forming on your forehead. He wanted to laugh, seeing as you dealt with more dramatic injuries in the past, yet he didn’t want to disturb you as you carefully touched his cheek with your free hand. The warmth of your palm contrasting sharply with the chill of the morning air.

As if you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, you look up, meeting his eyes.

“You’re blushing again.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, your cheeks heating further as you refocused on his nose, cleaning the surrounding area as if he were made of porcelain. You kept your attention on the injury, desperate to ignore the proximity—and the gentle warmth of his breath against your skin and the inexplicable tightness in your chest.

“There,” you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, breaking the stillness as you placed the tissue aside. “All better.” To diffuse the tension, you gave his cheek a light pinch before standing up to tidy the room.

Turning your back to him, you busied yourself with cleaning, scooping up the crumpled tissues littering the bedside table. But Namjoon’s eyes never left you. He watched the way you moved, the way your hair caught the light, and the way you scrunched your nose in irritation when you realized how much of a mess you’d made earlier.

When you bent down to retrieve a stray napkin from under the bed, you caught him staring again. This time, a soft laugh escaped him when he realized he’d been caught red-handed.

Before he could say anything, you grabbed the discarded blanket and tossed it at him.

 “So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked quickly, moving toward your suitcase and fumbling with the zipper, your voice a little too casual.

“I’m taking you to a bakery,” his voice was muffled as he poked his head out from under the covers. “And my dad asked us to pick up a Christmas tree.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of a Christmas tree. Even though the holiday spirit felt far away in this moment, a surge of excitement stirred in your chest. “A Christmas tree?” You echoed, trying to mask the intrigue in your voice with an air of nonchalance.

“Yeah,” he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. “I thought we could decorate it together tonight.”

“You hate decorating the tree.”

“True,” he chuckled, “but I’d rather suffer through it with you than alone. Besides, my parents have some ornaments that I think you’ll like.”

You paused, makeup bag in hand, feeling his words settle over you. In the two years you’d lived together, Namjoon had never once shown a shred of enthusiasm when it came to decorating the apartment. He was more the type to lounge on the couch with a book or a video game while you tangled yourself in string lights and sparkling baubles, only for him to chime in at the end with a “You missed a spot”. Still, he always helped place the star on top —mostly because you couldn’t reach it, and he was taller.

“You’re volunteering for your own torture?” You glanced over your shoulder, eyebrow raised, just as he swung his legs off the bed and stretched his arms high above his head.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him leaning back, his shirt lifting just enough to reveal the muscles flexing underneath. The morning sunlight steamed through the window, contouring his skin with an irresistible golden hue.

Quickly you turned back to your makeup bag, rummaging unnecessarily for a lipstick as warmth crept up your neck and onto your cheeks

“My mom will force us either way.” He declared, the faint defeat in his tone punctuated by a dramatic sigh ash he strolled towards the bathroom.

You let out a small laugh at his resignation, but it got caught in your throat when he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, tossing in onto the bed.

Your gaze betrayed you for half a second, flickering toward him before you could stop yourself. The lean lines of his back, the soft stretch of his shoulders, the way his skin gleamed faintly in the light—everything you weren’t supposed to notice left an imprint far too vivid in your mind.

Heart pounding, you forced your eyes back to your bag, gripping it as though it were a lifeline. But it was too late. You were certain he’d seen your reaction.

“See something you like?” His teasing voice reached you just as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Your face flamed, and you whipped around, glaring at the now-closed door. “You’re impossible!” You called out, loud enough for him to hear over the sound of the running water.

~~~~

The aroma of freshly brewed tea greeted you as you stepped out of the room, mingling with the faint hum of life coming from the kitchen. The soft click of the bathroom door shutting behind Namjoon grounded you, though your thoughts still spun wildly. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to regain composure, but the sound of running shower only stirred your imagination further—steam rising, droplets tracing the contours of his bare skin. Heat crept up your neck, and you shook your head sharply, chastising yourself. Get it together.

In a desperate attempt to regain control after the completely unfair sight of your sun-kissed, shirtless friend, you decided a little distance might actually do you some good. Grabbing the first cozy sweater and pair of jeans within reach, you tugged them on and practically bolted out of the room.

He’s your friend, you reminded yourself firmly, though the mantra did little to steady the pounding heart in your chest.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Kim and Minhi were seated at the dining table, morning sunlight streaming through the large windows. The golden light bathed the cozy space, catching on the delicate wisps of steam curling up from their teacups.

“Good morning, my dear,” Mrs. Kim greeted warmly, lifting her head to meet your gaze. “Did you sleep well?”

You smiled, pushing away any lingering thoughts from earlier, and took a seat at the table. “Yes, thank you,” you replied, carefully avoiding any mention of what had just transpired.

“Is Namjoon taking you out?” Minhi asked, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity over her teacup. You could almost swear there was a hint of a smirk forming on her lips.

You confirmed with a shy nod, but a new wave of heat crept up your spine, igniting your ears as if someone had turned up the thermostat.

Mrs Kim’s face broke into a broad grin. “Do you want me to whip you up something to eat first? Coffee or tea?” she asked, already rising from her chair.

“No, no,” you quickly interjected, waving your hands “We’re leaving in a few minutes. Namjoon’s just getting ready.”

Naked in all his glory in the shower…

You forced your mind back to the present as Mrs. Kim’s kind gaze lingered on you. Smoothing down your sweater, you took a steadying breath, doing your best to appear collected. You really had to pull yourself together.

“Is he taking you to Ajumeoni’s bakery?” Mrs. Kim asked, settling back in her chair with a huff. “At this rate, he’s paying for her grandkids to go to college.”

“C’mon Mom,” Minhi piped in. “The strawberry tarts are just-” She closed her eyes and inhaled dramatically, as if savouring the scent of sweet pastries. “They’re heavenly, I swear.”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, but Mrs. Kim merely waved her off.

“Alright, alright,” she relented, her own smile softening the mock exasperation in her voice “Just be home in time for dinner.”

“Yes, of course,” you nodded dutifully, resolute in your mission to be the perfect pretend-girlfriend today —a supportive friend, and nothing more.

“Jackson’s picking them up after work, mom, don’t worry.” Minhi said, her laughter cutting through your spiralling thoughts.

“He is?” you asked, blinking in surprise but taken in by her contagious laughter.

“Did you think you’d carry the tree in the metro?” Minhi giggled, her gaze flicking to the hallway as hurried footsteps echoed from upstairs.

Moments later, Namjoon appeared, his dimpled smile lighting up the room.

“Good morning!” he called out, running a hand through his freshly styled hair, the effortless charm in his voice matching his appearance. The brown sweater he’d chosen hugged his tall frame perfectly, drawing your attention to the way it accentuated the broad lines of his chest. The golden necklace at his collarbone caught the soft morning light as he bent down to plant a sweet kiss on his mother’s cheek.

Then, his eyes found yours, playful and warm before winking your way. “Are you ready?”

You fought to suppress the blush creeping up your cheeks, admiring him for a fraction too long. The vivid memory of his shirtless body flashed in your mind, and for a moment, words seemed to escape you.

“Hey, yeah, I’m all set,” you finally managed.

Namjoon’s smile just widened, a teasing softness in his eyes as he stepped closer. The scent of his cologne, fresh and warm, mingled with the aroma of tea as he leaned down toward you.

“You look really good.”  He said, his voice low and sincere.

All your mental preparations evaporated.

You glanced down at your grey sweater and jeans, disbelief flickering in your mind. Were you two looking at the same thing?

“Thanks. You don’t look bad yourself.” You replied, attempting a casual tone, despite yourself, but you’re certain your tomato red face gave you away.

Minhi and Mrs. Kim were shamelessly observing, their amusement barely concealed. Minhi raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips, while Mrs. Kim hid her laugh behind her teacup.

“Are you two going to stare at each other all day, or are you leaving?” Minhi nudged, leaning back in her chair with a knowing grin.

Namjoon chuckled, breaking the moment as he pulled back slightly. “We’re going, we’re going,” he assured, offering his hand to help you up.

As you stood, his palm rested briefly on the small of your back, sending a warmth through you that lingered. He shot his mother a cheeky smile as he led you toward the door.

“Don’t wait up,” he added with mock innocence, ushering you down the hall, and earning himself a pinch to the side form you.

~~~

The morning light was bright, yet it did little to chase away the frost in the air. All bundled up in your puffy winter coat, you walked through the bustling neighbourhood streets, the wind nipping at your cheeks as sunlight glinted off fresh snow. Beside you, Namjoon strolled at an easy pace, his tall frame hunched slightly against the cold.

 The shop windows glittered with seasonal displays- strings of lights, shimmering ornaments and snowy landscapes. Every so often, Namjoon would break the silence with a light-hearted comment or snippets from his childhood- stories that warmed you despite the cold.

“Look at that,” he nodded towards a window filled with beautifully wrapped presents underneath a grand Christmas tree. “I used to think those were real. I’d stare at them for hours, hoping someone would let me take a peek inside.”

You giggle, picturing a younger Namjoon, starry-eyed and full of wonder. “Did you ever get to sneak a peek?”

He shook his head, the soft pink on his cheeks deepening in the cold. “No way! My mom had a sixth sense for that kind of stuff. She always caught me.” His warm laugh carried over the frosty air, lifting your spirits even as the chill settled in your bones. Without thinking, his hand found, fingers curling gently around yours as he led you down the street.

A little later, he stopped again, his gaze stolen by a snug bookstore with a charming display in the window. The small shop exuded warmth, its large front window showcasing a centrepiece of fake snow, big red bows and a collection of carefully arranged books. His eyes lit up as they landed on a particular title propped up prominently in the centre.

 “Would you mind if we go in?” he asked, nodding towards the book, excitement brightening his face.

You followed his gaze, your heart sinking and cheeks flooding with heat the moment you recognized the book. Panic sets in as your mind scrambles for an excuse. It was a book from a Korean author who had recently burst onto the literary scene, earning praise for their intricate storytelling and philosophical metaphors. Naturally, Namjoon had fallen in love with their work, dissecting every layer of meaning in conversations that you secretly loved, but teased him mercilessly for.

You had heard so much about the author, that when you saw the newest release weeks ago, you knew it was the perfect gift for him.

“No!” you blurted out quickly, voice sharp enough to startle him.

“What?” He turned to you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because…” you hesitated, heat still rising to your cheeks as you struggled to find a good enough reason. But after a few seconds, you sighed in defeat and crossed your arms. “Because I already got it for you. You can’t buy it.”

His expression softened, a big grin spreading across his face as he stepped closer to you. “You got it for me?”

“Yes,” you muttered, averting your eyes as your blush deepened. “So, you can’t ruin the surprise. Keep walking, Kim Namjoon.”

He chuckled, his dimples making a brief but devastating appearance as he gave your arm a playful squeeze, holding you in place. “Alright, I’ll let it go. But…” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “Did you see the decorations?”

You blinked at the sudden shift in the topic and followed his gaze. He was nodding toward the shop entrance, just a little further away, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and festive greenery. Your eyes drifted upward, landing on the small spring of mistletoe dangling above the doorway. Its pale berries glinting like snow in the soft light.

His hands burrowed deeper into the pockets of his coat as he tilted his head toward it, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Better be careful with that,” he teased, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

You raised an eyebrow, watching the delicate plant sway slightly in the winter breeze. “It’s bad luck not to kiss under it,” Namjoon clarified, watching you with a hint of challenge in his expression.

“Since when are you so superstitious?” you asked, a laugh escaping you as you shook your head in disbelief.

“I’m not,” he admitted with a shrug, though the sheepish grin that tugged at his lips made his intentions clear. “I just like covering all my bases.”

Before you could answer, Namjoon leaned closer, his breath a soft warmth against your skin. His lips brushed your chilled cheek in a quick, fleeting kiss—a touch so warm and unexpected it made the cold air around you feel sharper by comparison.

You stood frozen for a moment, your cheek tingling where his lips had been.

Namjoon pulled back, his grin deepening, dimples carving into his cheeks. “There,” he said lightly, straightening his coat as if nothing had happened. “No bad luck now.”

 Normally, you’d brush off his antics as harmless teasing meant to get a rise out of you. But this time, it managed to frits your brain. You stare at him, a mixture of indignation and disbelief sparking in your chest. “Kim Namjoon, you-”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, already stepping back towards the bakery door he’d been guiding you all along. “Don’t blame me, blame the mistletoe,” he quipped, holding the door open for you, the bell above it chiming softly.

Your cheeks still burned as you stepped past him, shooting him a glare that lacked any real heat.

Inside the bakery, the scent of sweet cinnamon and vanilla wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The bell above the door chimed softly again as Namjoon followed, the sound blending seamlessly with the cozy hum of conversation and the occasional clink of porcelain mugs.

The interior was just as inviting as the aroma —a rustic charm, with walls lined with wooden beams and subtle golden accents. Twinkling fairy lights cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the rows of pastries displayed behind a pristine glass countertop.

Puffed-up croissants sat beside glistening hotteok, their caramelized centres looking absolutely delicious. Spiralled kkwabagi dusted with sugar and candied sweet potatoes. And then there were the cakes — delicate, crowned with fresh berries and swirls of vanilla cream, their perfect edges almost too beautiful to disturb.

Namjoon walked over to the counter, his tall frame leaning slightly as he studied the pastries with an almost childlike delight. The faint flush on his cheeks from the cold only added to his charm, softening his sharp featured and making him just the more endearing.

You couldn’t help but watch him, captivated the way his eyes shone with delight. There was something so disarming about his enthusiasm, so pure in its simplicity, that it made the flutter in your chest impossible to ignore.

“Will you let me order for you?” He asked, suddenly interrupting your thoughts.

“Yes, of course,” you smile, the slight flutter in your stomach making you laugh softly. As he turned to the counter, his brows furrowed in exaggerated concentration, you couldn’t help but admire him anew.  Namjoon has always been thoughtful, but this moment felt particularly tender, as though he was putting in the extra effort to make it memorable.

The bakery was alive with the bustle of other patrons, their laughter interlaced with the clinking of kitchen utensils in the back. A barista was busy steaming milk for lattes, while the warmth of the oven diffused toward you, chasing away any lasting chill from outside.

Namjoon finally ordered a selection of absolutely mouth-watering cream filled croffles and piping hot coffee. The lovely old lady at the serving counter lit up when she recognised him, leaning over to pinch his cheeks playfully. She gushed about how tall he had grown and how handsome he was, even calling her husband from the back to see Namjoon after all these years. You giggle softly, enjoying the lively exchange as Namjoon laughed, clearly relishing in the attention while trying to dodge her affectionate teasing. In the end, he walked away with an extra serving of milk bread as a ‘parting gift’ which he gratefully accepted, beaming as he thanked her.

The table Namjoon chose was tucked in a quiet corner, its window overlooking the bustling streets outside. The festive neighbourhood, framed by twinkling lights and snowy sidewalks, looked like a scene pulled straight from a snow globe. And as you settled into your seat, snowflakes began to drift gently from the sky, only adding to the hallmark-movie charm that seemed to influence the day.

“Here you go,” Namjoon settled the croffle in front of you. It was golden brown, with a crispy exterior that cradled the rich cream filling inside, adorned carefully with gingerbread crumbs — arguably, it was a masterpiece on a plate. He didn’t sit down yet, instead turning to fetch the coffee from the café counter

“Kim Namjoon?” a voice called out, and you looked to see a beautiful girl with big doe eyes shining once she looked at him, her pouted lips curving into a charming smile “I’m Min Iseul, do you remember me?”

Namjoon seemed shocked for a moment, but quickly regained his composure, his smile widening as he replied, "Oh my god, yes, hi! How have you been?"

“You know,” she smiled “life in a small town tends to be quiet. But what about you-?”

You watched from the corner of the table, feeling a tightness in your chest as Iseul place a hand on Namjoon’s arm. A frown formed involuntarily on your face as a pit began to settle in your stomach. Their conversation continued, the sound of their voices becoming a distant murmur as you forced your gaze downward, glaring at the croffle on your plate.

It felt horrible to realize that the sudden pang was indeed jealousy —raw and undeniable, it seemed it had taken root in your heart without your consent.

What was happening to you? You had always viewed Namjoon as a friend. You had watched him flirt with countless girls without a second though, yet now, here you were, on the verge of snapping at the mere sight of a pretty girl touching his arm. And of course she was perfect for him. She looked up at him as if he single-handedly hung up the stars, with her perfect hair, perfect smile, and that perfect body that made even the bakery apron look like high fashion.

It wasn’t just about Iseul, though. It was about something deeper, something you couldn’t quite explain. It was about not wanting to be replaced and a fear that quietly whispered to you that perhaps, you already had been.

As they continued their chat, the world outside quietly transformed. The snow began to blanket the streets in a delicate layer, framing the moment like a quaint, picturesque postcard. Inside, however, it felt like a different story. You picked at the croffle, the rich cream suddenly feeling too sweet compared to the bitter twist in your mood.

Finally, Namjoon returned, coffee in hands, a bright smile still lighting his face. “Sorry about that! Iseul and I used to be in the same classes at school,” he said, then paused when he noticed your expression. His brows furrowing in concern.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice gentle as he reached out, taking your hand in his.

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the weight of the moment. “Yeah, just… it’s nothing.” You lied, tasting the bitterness on your tongue. God, you hated lying.

He studied you for a moment longer, and for a brief second, you swore you saw something shift in his eyes.

“Alright,” he said slowly, a hint of uncertainty lingering. “Well, let’s dig in! You have to try the milk bread. I promise it’s worth it!”

As you took a bite, followed by a big gulp of coffee, you resolved to push away your insecurity, even if only for today. After all, the reality of your friendship was simple: while you may never make his heart flutter like Iseul seemingly did, you could certainly raise his blood pressure.

Namjoon started a new conversation about the last book he read, and you fell into the familiar flow of dialogue as the snowy scene outside continued to unfold. But every now and then, your gaze would drift to the window, catching a glimpse of the town dressed in white. You found yourself wondering if it was possible to be both happy for him, and fearful of losing him, all while managing to still be his friend amidst the chaos of unbidden feelings.

“Do you remember Hoseok?”

You answered Namjoon’s question with a nod, seeing as he pulled you too abruptly from your thoughts. “He’s the pretty one that stayed over for spring break?”

Namjoon laughed, his eyes gleaming with the unmistakable light that made your heart skip a beat —even as you fought against it. Usually, his laughter would unravel the tight knots in your chest, but now, it seemed to tighten them further.

You remembered the visit well — Hoseok rolled up all the carpets in your living room, turning it into an impromptu dancing studio. He was kind, like all of Namjoon’s friends, but he also ate all your snacks and took great pleasure in flirting with you every time you ran into each other, much to Namjoon’s discomfort.

“Yeah, you two broke my laptop,” you started, but he cut you off.

“And I got it fixed!” he countered, defending his clumsy actions, which only made you laugh.

Namjoon chuckled, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. “He invited us over for a Christmas party tomorrow. It’s a little get together, if you want to go,”

“Definitely,” you replied, though your enthusiasm felt forced. The prospect of a party sent a thrill through you, but underlying that was a twinge of uncertainty. Would Iseul be there? Would it be just another night of watching Namjoon flirt with someone else knowing you’re just playing the part of girlfriend?

As you took another bite of the croffle, its sweetness still felt bitter, much like the turmoil in your heart. You wanted to be happy for Namjoon, wanting to fulfil the role you signed up for, but now, beneath your smile, there was a complicated mess of fear and longing. More than ever, you felt like all your walls might come crumbling down.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Namjoon’s voice cut through your thoughts again, concern lingering beneath his words “You seem distant.”

 You force a smile, but the ache in your chest screamed at you to be honest, to share your doubts instead of masking it under a façade of indifference.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” another lie. How could you possibly explain the heaviness that sat at the bottom of your stomach, the envy bubbling silently inside of you, the tightness in your throat that made it hard to breath?

Namjoon leaned back, his warm gaze unwavering, clearly unconvinced. But for the rest of the meal, he didn’t press further. You both continued to eat in comfortable silence, even as the air thickened with unspoken words.

The snowfall outside intensified, painting the windows with a blur of white by the time you were done, and you feared, once again, that the outfit you had chosen was ill-fitted for the icy weather.

Namjoon picked up a box of strawberry tarts for Minhi on the way out, and as he opened the door for you, you saw Iseul waving at him—a darling wave that ignited a firestorm of nerves deep within you.

In that moment, logic fled your mind. Without thinking, you grabbed Namjoon’s coat collar and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips to his. His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and confusion flickering across his face. The warmth of his body felt so close, yet the distance between you —created by your impulsive actions — seemed insurmountable.

You can’t believe what you were doing!

Namjoon was frozen for one second, but then he melted into the kiss. His free hand gently cupping your face, as if he were afraid, you’d run if he moved too quickly.

Namjoon’s lips were soft against yours, his warmth seeping through the layers of your clothes and spreading through you like a slow burn. The world outside seemed to blur even more, the cold, the noise of the streets, the snow rushing into the bakery, it all faded into an unimportant backdrop. All that mattered was the feeling of his lips against yours —gentle, hesitant, yet impossibly comforting.

For a moment, you almost didn’t regret it.

Then, just as quickly as it started, the kiss ended. Namjoon pulled back slightly, his hand still cupping your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek as if seeking reassurance. His gaze flickered between your eyes, searching for something.

You felt the rush of heat flood your face as reality hit like a ton of bricks. What did you just do? The panic set in, an overwhelming wave crashing against your chest. You tried to swallow it down, but the vulnerability felt raw, exposed.

“I-I’m,” you stammered, stepping back slightly, your hands trembling as you pushed them into your coat pockets. “Mistletoe!”

Namjoon blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. His hand remained where it was for a moment, as if unsure whether to pull away or reach for you again. The warmth of his fingers against your skin was grounding, but the panic in your chest made it difficult to breath. You could hardly believe what you’d just done, but somehow, you still managed to squeeze out the most absurd explanation you could think of.

“Mistletoe,” you repeated, almost too quickly, the word falling past your lips like the snowflakes around you, each syllable hanging in the frigid air like a whispered secret.

His hand dropped to his side, the warmth from his touch slipping away as a flicker of something—concern, confusion, or maybe disappointment—crossed his face. It was hard to pinpoint, but whatever it was, it left an uncomfortable weight settling in your stomach.

He blinked, as if trying to make sense of the situation, then glanced at the mistletoe above the door. His expression shifted again, more uncertain now, and for a brief moment, there was a palpable silence between you, the world around you swirling in a soft flurry, but it felt like everything had stopped.

“Mistletoe?” he repeated, almost tentative. His eyes didn’t meet yours immediately; instead, they lingered on the mistletoe, as if searching for an answer in the small plant.

You nodded, fighting to keep your voice steady, but your throat felt tight, like the words were getting stuck somewhere between your chest and your mouth.

“Yeah,” he concluded, “I guess we could always put the blame on the mistletoe…” he said, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was still trying to grasp what had just happened.

You were about to argue further, to say something—anything—that would ease the tension building between you both, but just then, someone called out from inside the bakery.

“Hey! Make up your mind! Are you leaving or staying? You’re letting snow inside!” The voice was half-joking, but the discomfort in it made the moment all the more awkward.

Caught off guard, you and Namjoon exchanged a glance, and you both quickly moved toward the door, apologizing profusely to the patrons and the owners as you stepped outside.

“Sorry, sorry, we didn’t mean to make a mess,” Namjoon said, his words coming out rushed as he quickly pulled the door closed behind you, sealing off the chilly gust of wind that had followed you out.

You stood for a moment on the snowy sidewalk, the light of the bakery still visible through the frosted windows. The snowflakes seemed to have grown heavier, each flake falling in delicate patterns, as if trying to make the moment less heavy. But it didn’t. The air was cold, the street quiet, and despite the wintery beauty around you, your stomach twisted further and your heart beat erratically. Now it was just you and Namjoon in the silence of the day, both lost in thoughts you wouldn’t put into words.

Namjoon shifted slightly beside you, glancing down at the ground before speaking up. His voice hesitant, but there was an underlying softness to it that made your face heat despite the cold.

“So…” he began, trailing off as if searching for the right words. “No tongue this time?”

You blinked at him, your heart skipping over a few beats. The cold seemed to freeze in your lungs as you tried to process what he had just said. For a second, you were sure you hadn’t heard him correctly. You turned your head slightly, trying to gauge whether he was joking or not, but his expression was unreadable.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your voice coming out in a small, nervous laugh. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to lighten the mood or if he was just poking fun at you.

“I mean,” he continued, scratching the back of his neck, “if we’re going to blame it all on the mistletoe…” He trailed off, his tone playful but laced with a hint of something deeper, a flicker of curiosity behind his words.

That’s when you caught it. That familiar teasing glint in his eyes, the expression he had whenever he managed to make you fluster, and you huffed out in indignation, your breath transforming into a small cloud.

You crossed your arms, trying to gather your composure as you glared at him. The cold air biting at your skin, but the warmth of your embarrassment was far more overwhelming.

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” you shot back, your voice teasing but with a hint of defensiveness, as if you were trying to cover up how much his words had affected you. You couldn’t help it. The playful look in his eyes had a way of making your pulse pick up, and it didn’t help that every word he said seemed to sink deeper into the awkwardness of the situation.

Namjoon raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin on his face only growing wider “No, no! I’m not saying it’s your fault,” he said quickly, trying to reassure you, though the amusement in his voice didn’t quite match his words. “Just—y’know, I thought we were sticking with the mistletoe excuse. But, uh, it’s all on you now. You started it.”

“Me? I—” You opened your mouth, searching for a retort, but your brain was still scrambling to catch up with everything. Nothing coherent came to mind, and his look wasn’t helping in the slightest. “You kissed me first!” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon arched an eyebrow, his smile turning smug. “Yeah, on the cheek,” he countered, giving a little shrug as if that settled the matter entirely. He tilted his head slightly, an eyebrow raised as if he was waiting for your response, but when none came, the smugness in his expression only grew. For a moment, you considered whether it was worth the effort to argue with him. But then, his look softened, just enough for you to notice the shift in his expression —something that made your heart pick up again.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The absurdity of the situation—the way it had spiralled from a jealous outburst into whatever this was—left you feeling strangely vulnerable. His presence, so close beside you in the cold, seemed to magnify everything.

“Fine.” You finally muttered, crossing your arms tighter and shifting your weight from one foot to the other, almost chasing the cold away.

Namjoon’s dimples deepened; the teasing look in his eyes returning full force. “Fine?” he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “Is that you admitting defeat, or are you too cold to keep arguing?”

He collected your hand in his free one, leading you down the street towards the Christmas market.

You gave him a fleeting glare, narrowing your eyes. “Neither,” you shot back, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed the confidence you were trying to project. “I just don’t see the point in arguing with someone who twists everything to suit their narrative.”

Namjoon’s heartfelt laughter made any of the lingering tension dissipate, his expression taking on a look of sheer mock offence. “Twisting everything? Me?” He shook his head, his expression turning playfully solemn. “I’m just stating facts here. You’re the one who escalated things. I was perfectly content with a friendly mistletoe kiss. No drama. No tongue.”

Your eyes widened, and your jaw dropped at his audacity. “I did not escalate—oh my god, would you stop saying that?” you hissed, your voice low but filled with exasperation.

“Hey, you won’t see me complaining,” he replied smoothly, his voice softening just enough to send your thoughts spiralling. “But I never pegged you for the jealous type.”

“Gah! You’re insufferable!”

Namjoon’s grin grew as he watched you fume, his fingers tightening around your hand, as he led you down the snowy streets with easy confidence. The twinkling lights of the stalls cast a soft glow over the scene, the cold air whipped around you, but somehow, the heat between you kept the chill at bay, even if your cheeks were flushed from both the cold and the heated banter.

“Jealous? Who’s jealous?” you scoffed, trying to sound unaffected, but the way your beet-red face betrayed you. “I’m not jealous. I’m just…” you trailed off, realising you had absolutely no excuse lined up. The last part came out quieter than you meant, your voice showing more vulnerability than you were comfortable with, and you quickly buried your face in your scarf.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, his smile not quite fading, but the glimmer of something more thoughtful flickering in his eyes. He slowed his pace, just enough to match yours, the quiet hum of the market and the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet filling the space between you.

"You’re just... what?" he prompted gently, his voice laced with curiosity and that familiar edge.

“Just acting like a good fake girlfriend would.” You concluded, trying to keep your tone casual, but you felt your stomach churn slightly as you lied, like you were trying to brush off something that had begun to feel a lot more real than you expected.

Namjoon’s expression shifted — just a little. His face softened as he thought it over, then he gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder, his voice light as he responded, “Ah, I see. Well, I’ll admit, you’re pretty good at it.”

His tone made your heart settle a bit, but you couldn't shake the underlying tension that had suddenly crept in. You hadn’t meant to sound so serious, and yet there was something in his eyes now that made you second-guess everything. He gave a small chuckle, the kind that felt like distance—just enough to make you realize he wasn’t leaning in any closer, but not pulling away either.

He let go of your hand for a moment, running it through his hair, then casually reached for it again, as if nothing had changed.

“Well, as long as I’m the good fake boyfriend, we’re golden.”

You nodded, still completely flustered, but grateful for the shift back to something a little more familiar. He wasn’t pressing anymore. He wasn’t trying to read your true intentions. He was just… being Namjoon, your friend, your roommate, the guy who could make you laugh and leave you absolutely wrecked emotionally.

The rest of the walk was quieter, but not in an uncomfortable type of way. He kept walking besides you, hands stuffed in his pockets, occasionally throwing out a random comment or nudging you along with him as you made your way through the busy market and to the small Christmas tree lodge.

You two picked a tree without much debate. The scent of pine and oranges filled the air as you threaded through the festive area, the twinkling lights surrounding you. Namjoon’s presence besides you was oddly comforting—like an anchor in the whirlwind of noise and flashing lights. As you both made your way to the tree lot, he casually pointed out the skinniest, most scrawny-looking trees, joking about how much he’d like to buy one just to see his mother’s reaction.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his commentary, the tension from earlier completely forgotten. The awkwardness in the air had faded, at least for the moment, and you were thankful for it, seeing as you didn’t need more things to overthink tonight.

After a bit of back-and-forth, you both finally settled on a tree—a little taller than you both had anticipated, but perfectly symmetrical, with just the right amount of fullness.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. You two stopped to grab lunch at a modest-looking food stall, the inviting scent of fishcakes winning Namjoon over. You both enjoyed the warmth of the food as the wind continued to bite at your cheeks, the steam rising from your cups offering the briefest respite from the cold.

You tried mulled wine for the first time—warmed, spiced, with a tangy sweetness, but most importantly, warm—and to your surprise, you liked it.

The two of you wandered a bit more, chatting idly and laughing at each other’s jokes, not caring much for the crowds around you.

And before you knew it, Jackson had pulled up in his car to take you both home. The drive was quick and quiet, with the warm glow from the streetlights casting soft shadows across the interior of the car. Namjoon leaned back against his seat, looking content, while you sat in the front, trying not to overthink everything that had happened in the last few hours.

Namjoon teasing you about ogling his naked chest felt like it happened an eternity ago.

And now, here you were, getting ready for bed again.

The tree got decorated under Minhi’s careful supervision, looking more like a Pinterest masterpiece than a simple holiday decoration when she was done with it, and Namjoon, to his credit, managed to break only one bauble during the whole process.

The evening wound down quietly after the tree was finished. Minhi insisted on taking a dozen photos of her work, including some with the whole group in front of the tree. Jackson wrapped an arm around her shoulder, grinning like he’d won the lottery, while Minhi tried (and failed) to strike a serious pose before dissolving into laughter in his arms.

You stood off to the side, trying to figure out what to do with your hands, but Namjoon made the decision for you. He tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The flash went off, capturing the moment forever, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything beyond the warmth of his body and the quiet weight of his laughter in your ear. It felt so unguarded, so easy, that for a fleeting moment, you could almost forget it was just pretend.

Later, Minhi pulled a mistletoe plant from her bag with an exaggerated flourish, announcing it was tradition. She delighted in the awkward reaction it drew from both you and Namjoon, who immediately avoided eye contact with each other, mumbling something about “respecting personal space.” But Minhi didn’t press too hard, instead planting a sweet kiss on Jackson’s cheek that had him grinning like a fool in love.

After that, their parents got home, dinner was served, and you finally got your turn taking care of the dishes.

You quietly tiptoed your way to the bed, shivering slightly once you felt the coldness of the room, but careful not to make a sound. Your nighttime routine had taken longer than usual, and you were doing your best to avoid waking Namjoon, who fell asleep while waiting for you. The room was dark except for the faint glow of the little reading lamp he left on for you, casting a soft shadow across the space.

Slipping under the covers, you turned off the light and shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot. But before you could settle, Namjoon stirred, and with almost no time to react, he turned around and wrapped an arm around you.

Your breath caught as he pulled you close, his chest warm against your back, his movements unhurried and natural, as if this was something he did all the time. You felt him bury his head into your hair, his voice low and groggy as he murmured, “It’s cold. Don’t stay so far away.”

The weight of his arm was grounding, but your heart was anything but steady. You lay there stiffly for a moment, your mind racing again. But his breathing slowed, steady and even, and the warmth of his presence started to seep into your bones, melting the tension little by little.

You didn’t move or speak, afraid to break whatever spell had been cast over the moment. Instead, you let yourself slowly relax into his chest, his arm tightening slightly as if he could sense your shift.

The cold, the overthinking, the lingering awkwardness—it all faded, replaced by the quiet sound of his breath and the calm rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

You were absolutely hopeless.

[pettypiastri]

gentle hands find tender hearts — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader summary - day 1 of testing leaves Lando sore and seeking comfort word count - 2.2k warnings - language, allusions to reader insecurity, otherwise none! note - first piece for f1, please be nice! basically just idiots in love but they're not in denial and are already dating. blame Lando's yt channel for the brainrot and info i've loosely based this on. drop by the inbox, would love to discuss all your thoughts about your fave vroom vroom boys (anons are on) 🤍 feedback always appreciated!

Seeing the green verification light flash on the hotel room card reader might be the best thing Lando’s seen all day. Decidedly the best thing he’s seen since leaving you, a vision in his shirt, behind in the crisply air conditioned room, a sleepy smile on your face after he pressed a final kiss to your forehead. Which, notably, he’d only managed to find after a two-handed effort to sort through your messy hair swathing your face and neck. He’d traded all that in for the Bahrain humidity that’s somehow made itself a home in the aching in his head and the weight he still feels bearing on his neck. Seeing you now, just as pretty as this morning, he’s certain a ‘meh’ day 1 of pre-season testing did not make up for what he’d left behind at 6:45. Not even close.

You’re perched on the king sized bed, white hotel bedding bleached beyond identity, with a book in your hand and Lando wants to cry. Or maybe huff frustratedly. At the very least kiss you immediately. The smile you give Lando upon seeing his head of deflated curls peek around the wall, the one you always give him that reaches your eyes and consumes his soul, has his shoulders sagging. More than 100 laps and hours of data threaten to finally crush him as he drags himself toward you, items falling from his hands in time with his steps. Bucket hat, wallet, key card until it's just him, drained and pouty, eager to demand your comfort. Blindly you dog ear your page, cataloging his schlumpy movements. 

“What’s wrong gorgeous?” 

A resounding ‘oomph’ leaves your chest as your boyfriend falls against your frame. Strong hands reach under your hoodie seeking soft skin. Even though Lando’s been in the heat all day, it’s nothing like the toe curling, soul unfurling warmth you can provide. These days, he always seems to feel a chill in his chest when you’re not around. 

“Shit day,” he grumbles, fabric sticking to his parted lips as he snuggles against your chest. Overwhelming fondness makes your heart ache, a playful quip is briefly delayed. As a distraction, your hands gravitate to mirror his, wrapping around his broad shoulders and back. One comb of your fingers through his mangy curls has them frizzing up, tendrils reaching out to tickle your nose. 

“Oh, s’that all?” A sharp pinch between your ribs in retaliation has you tightening your grip in Lando’s hair. Your free flowing giggle encourages Lando to elaborate, his traitorous smile hidden against fabric. 

“ ‘M sore. Back, neck… pride.” On instinct, your hand in his hair dips to the natural resting place on the back of his neck. A pensive hum settles on his ears.

“Hmm… Well, suppose you’re lucky you’ve got a girlfriend then.” 

A truly minimal effort grumble of confusion is all you get in response. Lando, tired and grumpy, never fails to make you smile. It’s why, with great effort, you wiggle down the bed with him still on top of you, crumpling pillows and pulling up the bottom sheet in your wake, so you can be nose to nose with him. His beautiful baby blues, with a streak of exhaustion, a fleck of frustration, and a halo of tenderness, crack open to regard you. Droopy lids are held open by a combative fondness that overpowers the weight of unmet expectations. You kiss him languidly, a need to rush nowhere to be found. Despite your initiation, you part your lips easily for him letting him control the moment how he wants. Lando always kisses you like it's his last chance, in a way that makes you feel it from your stomach down to your toes. Sometimes you find yourself crossing your fingers that you make him feel the same. 

Upon breaking apart you coax him gently, “Lay on your stomach for me? Let me take care of you.”

And Lando resigns to let you. Happily. Defenselessly. Completely. Because you always take care of him. After Sochi, after Carlos left, whenever he loses sight of himself. Your unyielding arms are always ajar for him to crash into.

Lando proves to be absolutely no help as you try to shimmy his hoodie off him, his face pressed into one of four available pillows, arms curled above his head. Your level of struggle makes you giggle, then laugh from your chest, a whine of his name mixed in. Half a cheeky smile is visible from Lando as he peeks an eye open to regard you. He lifts one arm begrudgingly and then the other, allowing you to successfully free his torso.

Gently you lay the hoodie to your side and scan his lean back. You watch his shoulders flex as he shifts again to get fully comfortable, the dimples in his lower back popping in and out. His golden skin, a tan you watched bloom over a long offseason, calls for your careful touch. 

One of your thighs raises to straddle the backs of his, finding a comfortable position atop his legs. As if in anticipation of your tenderness, an adorable sigh whistles out through Lando’s nose. Moving just by instinct, your careful hands start at the small of his back, digging in just enough with your thumbs to coax the tension out. Briefly you wonder if the tiny hiss Lando lets out is one of appreciation or if hours in the air conditioned hotel room have left your extremities just on the wrong side of chilly. You’re reassured when a more full chested sigh escapes your boyfriend upon your hands reaching the apex of his shoulders in one long motion of your hands. The look of contentment is already beginning to set in on Lando’s striking face as you continue carefully in fluid, albeit improvised, movements. 

There is a stillness in the room that welcomes the almost inaudible efforts of your hands pushing into his muscles and grants permission for your mind to wander. A dull hum from the air conditioning unit aims to harmonize with Lando’s consistent sighs. On instinct you itch to trace a pattern between his birthmarks, taking a moment to appreciate even the smallest parts of him. 

As now warmed fingers detour from their ritualistic path up his back, you stop at one mole, marveling that it looks the exact same shade of brown as the coffee was on your second date. A cup of which had steamed up between your eyes as you glanced sheepishly over the porcelain rim at him, hoping he couldn’t see you staring. The waitress had led with ‘how cute a couple the two of you make’ before informing you it was closing time. Lando had not corrected her. Instead he’d offered you his jacket before walking you home. You’d kissed him before you even made it to your street. The tableau, illuminated by a dusty streetlamp, saw you pushing him back with a hand on his chest when you realized you wouldn’t be able to stop if you carried on a second longer. Lando had found it sickeningly endearing. 

Another birthmark on your course upwards is a bit lighter, more oval, something like the dirt track he had taken you to watch rallying at with his siblings last winter. You’d shared lip gloss with one of his sisters and been asked for advice on the boy problems of the other. Lando’s brother Oliver realized he didn't even have to ask how serious things were when he’d caught Lando staring at you when he thought no one was watching. Oliver had leant over to ask him a question, only to find Lando didn’t even know who the race leader was as he’d practically not taken his eyes off you. You, just existing. Eager eyes darting around attentively at the flurries of dirt before you, your hand on Lando’s wrist, spinning the bracelet his Nan gifted him with absentminded ease. Later he’d watched Lando take about 30 photos of you as you wandered the merch booths and food stands, all of which you were none the wiser to and Oliver knew you never would be. 

The birthmark just at the base of his neck is the one you noticed peeking out from his t-shirt late one warm night in Monaco. When your eyes yearned to fix on something stable. Something safe. Lando’s hand had reached back for yours as he lead you through the Monaco streets. You’d linked your pinky with his, too shy to feel the warmth of his whole hand in yours. He’d driven the two of you around in his Jolly, for once abiding by the speed postings; he was in no rush with you. You recall being envious of the wind ruffling his hair, wishing it was you instead. The hand he placed on your exposed thigh had you looking the opposite direction to hide your glowing cheeks.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, you scooch to sit over the center of Lando’s back, bringing his strong neck into an accessible range. Your thumbs dig into the sides, freestyling a way to massage such a random part of the body in such desperate need of TLC. His curls that you’ve worshiped, pulled on, and braided for the past years are welcomed into the special treatment with your fingers sliding against his scalp before beginning at the base of his neck again.

Lando had looked at you sideways when you’d once commented on his strong neck being one of your favorite features of his. Refusal to elaborate was betrayed by your full body flush and flitting eyes as he leaned over you, hands settling on the arms of the chair you were sat in. That was just last month; he still makes you nervous. 

Nervous in the way that makes your breath catch and your palms clam up. Nervousness akin more to anticipation than anything else; woven with glee and eagerness. Something like you feel right now, realizing you haven’t kissed him in 15 minutes and your hands are starting to cramp. Leaning down, you press a peck to his exposed cheek, Lando’s cologne filling your nose. For someone you thought was asleep, his eye cracks open the instant your lips part from his skin. 

Lando regards you for just a moment before, with much difficulty given his current position and slight delirium, moving to wrangle you so you’re lying down chest to chest with him. One of his arms drapes over your neck, hand planted behind your head, creating a little bubble made just for your heads. Something unrupturable and uninterrupted where he can stare at you without needing a reason.

The eyes you’re met with are droopy, full of contentment, and overflowing with affection. It’s a look that you used to think you’d never receive from someone else. But Lando’s never been afraid to be loud with his love. It took some time, some proof of dedication from him that the beaming smile and honest eyes were not a fluke, for you to bloom. Now when you’re with him, you don’t care who’s looking. You love who you are in his company, how unafraid to occupy space you become. It draws you to place your hand on his stubbled cheek (that you will not stop teasing him about) and stroke your thumb slowly over his skin. On instinct Lando nuzzles closer, so eager to be doted on by you. His lips find yours in an intimate kiss. 

“Thank you baby,” he murmurs, words meant just for you, so soft they would’ve been mistaken for a flicker of the moonlight had you not been paying attention. 

You assume he means for the massage. He assumes you know it’s for everything else: all the support and love and devotion you show him. It’s bliss with you. Lando had gotten over trying to fight against the never-ending spiral of longing, lust, and love in every moment, word, and movement with you, a long time ago. Now he welcomes drowning in your smile and voice and touch. He yearns for the overwhelming clench in his chest and weightlessness of his body. He’s given himself over completely to you in hopes of his demise at the sight of your warm eyes and the way you say his name.

Lando finds his heart squeezing again just from looking at you, curled against him in a random Hilton somewhere in the Middle East. The only remedy, the only distraction is to kiss you again, gently but full of meaning. It makes you blush, afire under his adoring gaze, feeling so safe but exposed, heart bared fully to him. 

In the sacred hush of your hotel room you scoot just a fraction until your nose skims his, eyes fluttering closed. Upturned lips brush against yours involuntarily. 

A deep exhale leaves Lando’s nose, tickling the peach fuzz of your upper lip. It conveys total peace and comfort. It says somehow, this is all he needs. This is how life looks for him when his mind wanders to years his senior. Maybe there’s more noise around your little bubble, more feet, decidedly smaller than the both of yours, leaving prints on your hearts. But you and him together like this? It’s constant, transcendent of location or hardship or outside noise. You and him together like this, with 'I love you's' as the night's lullaby, is not just enough, it’s everything.