#also both are so incredibly soft despite everything

[b3ach-bunn7]

hi i love all ur fics, especially ur shinsou ones! do u think u could write for shinsou using this prompt:

"i’m obsessed with a food blogger who writes about cheap ways to be gourmet in your 20s and i flirt with them over comments but they never post pictures of their face and ALSO there’s a really cute grocery bagger at the store down the street who teases me and always asks to join me for dinner and i definitely want to say yes"

SOMETIMES

You really like flirting with the cute cashier at your clocks grocery store. You also really like flirting with the funny faceless YouTuber in his comment section

(thank u sm for this ask i loved it)

—————————————————————————-

GOCHUJANG MAC & CHEESE PIZZA MindJack · 459k subscribers 7 hours ago · 15:39 · 679k views Description Burnt the shit out of my mouth eating this but it was worth it… [SHOW MORE]

perfect first date meal icl y/neats 6 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 1.9k  [Thumbs Down] 

 ⤷Are u asking me out rn… MindJack 5 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 1.9k  [Thumbs Down] 

  ⤷are you saying yes rn…. y/neats 5 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 1.9k  [Thumbs Down] 

—--

Despite what the contents of your fridge might suggest, you are actually quite a terrible cook. 

You don’t want to be. If it was your choice you’d be the next chef on Hell’s Kitchen, yelling alongside Gordon Ramsey. But, unfortunately, you completely lack the skillset to even think about auditioning. You burn things, you overmix them, you undercook them. No matter how closely you follow a recipe you somehow manage to mess things up. It doesn’t help that most of the ingredients you buy are substitutes for the expensive things you really should be using. But it’s not your fault. You’re just a college student trying to get by, your low paying part time job nowhere near enough to fund your hobby. Even with the detailed tutorials made by your favourite YouTuber, you still struggle. 

In all honesty, he's probably the reason you’re so into cooking. You’d found his account on a whim, when he only had about a hundred subscribers, and you’d instantly fallen in love with his content, the recipes that looked like they came straight out of a Michelin stars restaurant. 

His channel is different from most of the cooking content you see. He doesn’t talk, other than the very rare occasions you catch a glimpse of the soft lilt of his voice. He uses captions that shouldn’t be as funny as they are, and lots of different angles of his cooking. It’s a testament to how good of a cook he is that he’s amassed as many subscribers as he has with only his words.

He doesn’t show his face, but you just know he’s attractive. The smooth planes of his hands that he’s not shy to pan the camera too, the flowery apron he always has on tied over what you think is a pretty muscular chest. 

It only makes the fact he actually knows you even better. Well. Knows might be an overstatement. Your relationship is solely an online one, with you commenting under all of his posts and him replying every time. It helps that you’re one of his oldest fans, and so you think he’s memorised your handle by now. You even sometimes get a mention, your name sweet against his tongue as he teases you about your horrible cooking that you’ve warned him about.

Mina likes to remind you that he’s faceless, and so there is a chance you could be flirting with a seventy year old man, but you doubt any seventy year old looks like that. And if he really is a senior that does, then you think you’re okay with it. 

It’s all just for fun, anyway. You guys don’t really talk outside of a comment section, both of you are too scared to cross over the line from a fan and a creator to actual friends.

Today's recipe looked incredible. That’s why you find yourself milling about the grocery store near your college accommodation. It’s a nice place, only a ten minute walk, and it has pretty much everything you could need. The only issue is, you have to look presentable, considering the fact that everyone who works there are students from UA, including your favourite cashier, Shinsou Hitoshi.

He’s cute. He’s really cute. Soft purple hair, these dimples that crease his face every time he smiles. He always looks tired, mainly because he usually works night shifts, but you think it makes him all the more attractive. Shinsou also seems very familiar for reasons you can’t quite place, but you’re always shopping in the middle of the night, so your brain is never working hard enough to figure it out.

A chill settles over your skin as you walk through the vegetable aisle. Your UA hoodie is baggy and overworn, and you pull the material over your hands. You don’t even know why you’re in the vegetable aisle. You don’t even need any. You consult your phone as you wander around, dropping things aimlessly in your basket. 

When you’re ready to pay, you walk right past the self-checkout to Shinsou. He’s sitting behind the till, and when you get close enough you can see him playing block blast on his phone. You peer over just in time to see him lose. He tuts softly and you shake your head.

Shinsou glances up and the smile that graces his lips is almost instant at the sight of you.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” He nods in greeting, shutting off his phone and placing it to the side.

You hoist your basket up. “It hit one am so I thought I’d get up and get my shopping done.”

He snorts a laugh. “You know, you could be normal and do your shopping during the day.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to see your insomniac ass.” You tease. 

Shinsou rolls his eyes but you see the tips of his ears turn red. He peers at the ingredients in your basket suspiciously. The flour, gochujang and macaroni. 

“What the hell are you making?”

“Don’t look at my delicious ingredients like that,” You pout. “It’s this recipe I saw online.”

Shinsou looks wary and you scowl. “What’s that face for?”

“This face is for worry.” He grabs a plastic bag from under the counter, free of charge for you. “You should probably warn the building manager.” He muses.

You cross your arms, but it's hard to look angry with the smile that's fighting to fill your face. “And why is that?”

“Make sure the building is up to code. Fire safety is no joke, Y/N.” He fixes you with a look, and you splutter.

“I’m not going to set the building on fire!”

“Only time will tell.” 

Shinsou is well aware of your horrible cooking, courtesy of the countless pictures you’ve shown him of all your failures. He thinks they’re very funny. Shinsou always has advice ticjingnto fall off his tongue, because according to him, he's an excellent cook. You’ll believe it when you see it.

You take your bag out of his hands. “You just watch. Today is the day I will persevere and cook the greatest meal you will ever see in your life.” You say determinedly.

“Tonight.” he corrects you.

“Shut up.”

Shinsou watches with hooded eyes as you clumsily shove your bank card back into your wallet, his chin resting on his hand. The dark green polo he wears, embossed with the store’s logo, fits loosely against his chest. He has nice hands, you think. And nice biceps.

“I could just cook for you.” He suggests, and you ignore the soft lilt in his voice, no matter how enticing it is. “And I can assure you it won’t taste like shit.”

“My food doesn't taste like shit.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t taste like shit all the time.”

You want to accept his offer. You really really do. But the last guy you’d spoken to had left your crying in your room for a week, and you refuse to let any more college boys trample all over your heart. You’re sure Shinsou wouldn’t do any trampling, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. But god, if he doesn’t make your resolve weak. He seems to enjoy the little back and forth you two have, though, so you hope the two of you can keep flirting and acting like you both don’t want something more.

“You’ll see, Shinsou. It’s going to be great. I’ll bring you a plate.” You promise.

“Please don’t.”

He’s right to be scared, seeing as you in fact do burn your pizza.

-

STRAWBERRY CHEESECAKE COOKIES MindJack · 459k subscribers 4 hours ago · 19:32 · 403k views Description Heaven in a cookie if you can ignore the obscene price of strawberries… [SHOW MORE]

sweet just like you y/neats 3 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 426  [Thumbs Down] 

   ⤷Cringe   MindJack 3 hours ago   Reply [Thumbs Up] 993   [Thumbs Down] 

    ⤷ur supposed to flirt back..     y/neats 2 hours ago     Reply [Thumbs Up] 327  [Thumbs Down] 

     ⤷Not on main baby     MindJack 1 hours ago       Reply [Thumbs Up] 376   [Thumbs Down] 

–

“You’re just over-mixing, I think. And your oven is too hot.” Shinsou’s nose wrinkles a little as he  breaks one of your cookies in half. 

Cookies might be an overstatement, because they’re somehow rock hard on the outside and gooey on the inside. They’re still slightly warm, seeing as you’d baked them only a few hours ago, and Shinsou is doing a pretty good job in being polite about it all. You’re currently leaning against the register as he lays them out in front of him. 

It’s late, again, and there’s only a few other people milling about the store. You didn’t actually need any groceries today. You’re supposed to be finishing the essay that’s getting dangerously close to its due date, but you were bored, and made up some excuse to yourself that an energy drink would help you work better. You’d bought the cookies on a whim to see if all his culinary bragging had any bite to it.

And it did. At least you think it did. He gives you some pretty helpful advice.

“But how do I know when to stop mixing?” You ask. 

“Well, the butter and sugar is hard to over mix. Once you add your dry ingredients, the second the flour streaks are gone and everything is combined, you stop.” Shinsou explains it in a way that doesn’t make you feel stupid.

You nod slowly. “I see.” 

You push the container toward him. “Try one, please.”

Shinsou fixes you with a look. “No.”

“What? You have to, I brought them all this way!” 

He shakes his head, pushing the container back towards you. “Don’t try to poison me while I’m working.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t actually care if he eats them or not. You just think it’ll be funny, considering the fact you tried them yourself so you know they taste like crap. You shake the container in a way you hope is enticing.

“Come on, please? For me?” You try to make your voice sound as syrupy sweet as you can.

He looks at you for another beat, before sighing heavily.

“Fine. Only because you’re begging so nicely.”

“I- Shut up.” You mumble, looking down to ignore the teasing smirk on his face.

Shinsou grabs the one that looks the least deformed. He eyes it warily, his tongue darting out to lick his lip.

He shuts his eyes. “Deliver us from evil-“

“Just try it!”

He does. A very small, tentative bite. But It's a bite nonetheless, so you can’t complain. There’s a beat and you watch his jaw work as he chews. You allow yourself to hope for a second that maybe they’re not that bad, but then he winces, pretty features creasing.

“Y/N.”

“Shinsou.”

He shakes his head. He reaches under the counter for some water. He swallows, and you watch his Adam Apple bob as he leans his head back.

Shinsou groans, shuddering. “You need to never bake again.”

“It’s not- I’m trying, at least.” You pout.

The container clicks as he shuts it swiftly. You crack open the Redbull you’d just brought. The sound echoes through the nearly empty store. The drink is cold and refreshing, and the can cools your palms.

“Trying how? Where are you even finding these recipes?” He laughs.

You grab your phone out of your pocket. “This guy I follow on YouTube.”

“I think you should follow someone else.”

You shove his shoulder. “No. I love him, he’s so cool. I’m always flirting with him in his comments, you know.” You smile mischievously, showing him the YouTube page.

Shinsou has a very weird reaction to that. His eyes widen just slightly, his mouth parting to speak words that don’t make their way out. You squint at him.

“Are you alright there?” You half joking and half asking, because he doesn’t really look alright.

His eyes search for something in your face. “Are you fucking with me?” 

Your brows furrow, your phone going a little limp in your hand. “What?”

Shinsou seems to shake himself out of whatever shock he was in, because he slips your phone out of your hand and starts scrolling through his page.

“Nothing.”

“You’re so weird.” You say, but you drop it, leaning in a little closer so you can watch with him.

He nods approvingly as you point out your favourite recipes. “Wow. Amazing. These videos look incredible.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“I’m being serious!” He exclaims, and you snatch your phone out of his hand.

“No, you’re being sarcastic. Or mocking. Or both, actually.” You sigh dreamily. “That’s my boyfriend you’re making fun of.” 

“Your what?” Shinsou splutters.

“You heard me. It’s only a matter of time before we make it official.” You wiggle your left hand at him and point dramatically at your ring finger.

“You’re delusional.”

“He literally wants me. Look.”

You pull up the most recent of your interaction, and Shinsou’s jaw drops a little.

“That’s you?”

“Yes!” You grin. “Isn’t it romantic?”

Shinsou just nods wordlessly. He rubs at his eyes, shaking his head slightly.  “Do you know who he is? Is- Isn’t he like, faceless?”

You pat his arm. “Oh, Shinsou. I don’t even need to see him to know he’s fine. Look at his biceps. And his arms. And those beautiful hands. What I’d let those hands do to me.” 

You pull up a random video and hold it up to him. Shinsou, again, reacts differently than what you expect. He doesn’t say much, just nods along to your words. You think he’s blushing.

“And he cooks? And really well, at that? I’d let him wine and dine and f-“

“Okay!” He cuts you off. “Let’s calm down.”

You laugh. “Is all this talk too much for you?”

“Yes.”

You glance at the time and curse. “Shit, I should probably get going. I have an essay to write.” You mumble.

You grab the snacks you’d brought and give Shinsou a wave. “Think about me if you get bored.”

“Definitely won’t.”

—-

SCALLION FLATBREAD WITH CHILLI OIL MindJack · 460k subscribers 10 hours ago · 13:02 · 679k views Description If you don’t like spicy food then grow up because this… [SHOW MORE]

that shot at the end is insta worthy 🙏love that flowery apron y/neats 8 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 1.0k  [Thumbs Down] 

 ⤷Shall I post MindJack 5 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 1.9k  [Thumbs Down] 

  ⤷yes mindjack insta page when?? post cooking thirst traps plz y/neats 5 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 489  [Thumbs Down] 

—-

You were joking about the Instagram page. 

Well, only slightly joking. Mindjack solely resided on YouTube and TikTok, the latter only being clips from his videos condensed for engagement purposes. You thought Instagram would be a nice place to get a little more content from him if anything else. 

Your conversation with Shinsou was another stark reminder that you actually didn’t know what MindJack looked like. Obviously, it’s not like your flirting was going to go anywhere. But, on the one in a million chance it did, you’d like to know who it was you were thinking incredibly inappropriate thoughts about.

So, when you glance at your phone during your lecture after it buzzes on the table, your heart nearly falls out of your ass when you see what it is.

MindJack has requested to follow you. 56s 

You think it’s a fake account at first. You have the same username on all your socials, so it’s no surprise that if someone was sad enough to pretend to be him, they’d find your account. Your comments on his videos are not exactly private.

You open up the request, glancing up at the lecturer you’ve been trying to focus on. She’s looking away and you’re sitting in the far back, so you don’t feel rude to pick up your phone with more purpose.

The page is blank. He has the same caption as his other socials, the same profile picture. If you’re being honest it looks pretty legit. And what’s the worst that’s going to happen if you accept? It’s not like you’re going to get hacked. Probably. So you approve the request and shut your phone off, not thinking much of it.

And then your phone buzzes again. 

You shoot an apologetic look to the person next to you, who’s getting increasingly annoyed at your phone. You look at it once more.

MindJack 

1.2k followers . 0 posts

You follow each other on Instagram

MindJack: Hey

This is getting weird now. Maybe weird is not the right word to describe it. Exciting might be better.

Y/Neats: hiiii

A few minutes pass without the reply, and the read receipt stares back at you mockingly. You pout, disappointed in falling for someone’s stupid prank.

MindJack: I have no idea what to say right now

Y/Neats: wait so is this actually MindJack

Y/Neats: or am I being punk’d 

MindJack: Punked?

Y/Neats: YOU NEVER WATCHED PUNK’D??

Y/Neats: it’s like a hidden camera prank show that I might be staring in.. seeing as ur ass could be a fake

MindJack: No my ass is real

MindJack: Workijf on getting that verification

So it is him. The nerves you had that he wasn’t disappear almost instantly, and the excitement increases. Your chest fills with a weirdly sappy feeling that he’d actually taken the time to find you socials, request it and message it. Maybe all those YouTube comments weren’t just for fun. It’ll be a nice story to tell your kids, at least.

You spend the rest of your lecture texting. The conversation is stilted at first, only slightly, but you get past the awkwardness quite easily. He’s fun to talk to. You find yourself trying to stifle laughter at some of the stuff he says, and when you have to pack up and leave you immediately miss him.

And, surprisingly enough, when you make your usual nightly trip to the grocery store, MindJack seems to be on Shinsou’s mind too. Because when you rock up to the counter with only a pack of m&ms, he frowns.

“You not cooking tonight?”

“Nope.” You sigh. “I’m not in a mood to nearly burn my kitchen down again.” The card machine beeps at you to pay, and you dig around your pockets to look for your wallet.

Shinsou tilts his head a little. “But Mindjack posted a new video.”

Your eyes dart up to his the second the name leaves his mouth. It seems you can’t avoid the guy.

“Yeah, but the recipe is too difficult for me.” You shake your head. “And I have none of the right equipment.”

Shinsou nods slowly. You’re still eyeing him a little, because he looks lost in thought, and you're sure you haven’t said anything for him to look that confused. Just before you’re about to ask if he’s okay, he speaks up.

“Come over to mine tonight and we can make it together.”

This request feels a little different. Not like his usual jokey flirting the two of you do, but it feels real. 

“Are you being serious?” 

“I always am. But tonight more than most.” 

You realise, while he’s speaking, that he’s nervous. He looks fine, but you can see his hands wringing beneath the counter where he thinks you can’t see. You smile a little shyly. 

You want to. You really want to. You think texting MindJack has made the little burning feeling in your chest for some romantic attention worse. It makes the fear that you’ve been harbouring over dating dissipate, and the hopeful way Shinsou is looking at you certainly makes your decision easier.

So, against your better judgment, you nod.

“Alright.”

Shinsou looks just as surprised as you feel at your acceptance, but he recovers quickly, flashing you a bright smile that makes your cheeks flush. 

“Perfect. I get off in ten, if you can hang around.”

You glance at your phone and laugh a little.  “So you’re taking me out on a date at five in the morning?”

Shinsou raises his eyebrows. “A date, huh?”

You blush. You shake your head quickly. “Well- Hang out, I mean. Not a date. This-“

“Oh, it is a date.” He reassures you, his smile easy. “It’s just cute seeing you all flustered.”

“You- I’m going to wait by the front.” You say, ignoring his teasing laugh as you do.

He doesn’t take too long. Shinsou looks nice outside of work. He’s wearing one of the campus hoodies and a pair of jeans that fit him nicely. He’s got two cans of Monster in his hand and he passes you one. You grab it, the condensation cooling your hands.

“Hey, this is my favourite flavour.” You crack it open and it fizzes over your fingers. 

“I know.”

“I can’t decide if that’s charming or creepy.”

Shinsou hums, holding out his arm for you to take. “I prefer charming.”

You think your arm fits perfectly between his. The sunrise creeps behind the buildings, the deep orange light warming your side. You’re used to catching the sunrise. Most of your shopping trips tend to be in the early hours of the morning, and, much like the cute guy on your arm, you’re quite the insomniac. 

Conversation blurs easily with Shinsou. You talk about your course and he talks about his, and you find there’s a lot more to him than your conversations at the till. He plays bass, and he has been trying to figure out how to sneak a pet cat in without his nosy next-door neighbour telling on him. 

The walk doesn’t take long, and Shinsou makes you close your eyes so he can quickly tidy up. You think you look a bit stupid standing in his doorway with your hands over your eyes, but he’d insisted.

You sigh. “Shinsou, I don’t care what your place looks like.”

“Well, I do.” He sounds a little out of breath from all the running around. “I have to impress you.”

A minute passes, and then you feel two warm hands circle your wrists. Shinsou pulls your hands off your face and you're greeted by a very handsome face.

“Hi.” He says.

You bite back a smile. “Hey. Can I look at your place now?”

“If you must.”

It’s the same setup as your place, and it’s what you assume all the student accommodations look like. The very tiny seating area, the slightly bigger kitchen and the room that’s tucked away. Shinsou place is decorated quite nicely. There's lots of vinyls hanging up around his wall, plants tucked into every corner of the room. There’s a few pictures hung on the wall and also a hole.

Shinsou sees you looking at it and laughs a little awkwardly. “Yeah, my friend is a very destructive drunk.” 

“You know you’re not going to get the deposit back cause of that.” You chide and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ll make him pay. Bakugo has a shit ton of money saved, he’s so anal about that stuff.” Shinsou says.

Your kitchen is definitely your favourite part. It seems Shinsou has spent most of his time decorating this place, with the expensive cooking equipment and the fridge that’s stacked with all the pricy ingredients you never have the guts to buy.

It looks oddly familiar. 

You don’t know why. Something about the counters, or the decor. You can’t quite place it. You figure it’s probably just the fact it looks the same like all the other student accommodations. It’s also nearing half five in the morning, and you think you need more rest before you can figure anything out.

“Alright! I’m ready to bake. Or cook. Or whatever we’re doing.” You cheer.

“Baking today. Scallion flatbread, according to MindJack.” Shinsou reads off his phone.

“Do you have all the ingredients?”

“Yes.” 

You furrow your brows. “You haven’t even checked.”

Shinsou leads you to stand behind his counter. “I just know. I have a cooking sixth-sense.” 

You drum your fingers on it. “I’m excited! This might be the first time I ever cook something that doesn’t turn out like shit.”

Shinsou snorts. He’s busied himself with pulling out ingredients and bowls. “I hope your bad cooking juju doesn’t rub off on me.”

“What- I don’t have bad cooking juju!”

Shinsou winces a little. “Yeah. Of course you don’t.”

Shinsou finishes grabbing everything he needs. He quickly tugs off his hoodie and you act like you’re not trying to catch a glimpse of his bare skin when his shirt rides up.

He rubs his hands together. “Okay, so. Grab me flour. We need three hundred grams.” Shinsou points to the bowl, and you salute.

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, you can definitely keep calling me that.”

You elbow his side lightly. Shinsou searches in a drawer for a scale, but honestly there’s really no need because you quickly dump what you think looks like three hundred grams into the bowl.

“Okay, so- Y/N, what are you doing?” Shinsou speaks around a laugh, grabbing the flour out of your hand.

“What? It’s three hundred grams.” 

He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Are you being serious?”

You frown, grabbing the bowl protectively. “Did I do something wrong?”

Shinsou laughs boldly now. “This is why your baking is horrible. You need to measure.”

You roll your eyes as he tugs the bowl out of your hands. He pours the flour back into the bag as gracefully as he can so he can measure them again. You draw little hearts in the mess he makes on the table.

“I don’t have a scale, though. Only my eyes.” You pout.

He scoffs. “You’re not real.”

“I am!”

Shinsou decides to measure the remaining ingredients. He slides the bowl over to you once everything is inside. You’d pushed the sleeves of his t-shirt up for him and the strong muscles of his forearms are dusted with flour. 

“Now mix. Carefully.” He instructs. “I need to clean the counter.”

“Okay.”

You do mix. The dough feels sticky in your hands, and you mush it between your fingers. You make a face and you hear Shinsou snicker behind you.

“Stop laughing at me.” You stick your tongue out at him and he flicks water in your face.

It’s fun cooking and actually being good at it. Shinsou shows you how to roll out the fough, how to crinkle it in the pan. You let him do that, a little too nervous to get your hands so close to the hot metal. Your eyes sting from the heat of the chilli oil and your hands are silky because of the oil you spilt, but it might be the most fun you’ve had all week.

He presents the flatbreads on a pretty marble plate. 

“Wow! I can’t believe we made these.” You marvel.

“Yep.” Shinsou breathes. “Looks almost exactly like MindJack’s, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah. I hope it tastes the same too.” You add.

Your fingers burn a little, since the food is so fresh. The bread crunches as you bite into it and you make a noise that sounds strangely similar to a moan.

“Oh my god.” You speak around a mouthful. “That’s so good.”

Shinsou only hums in reply. His fingers tap the table a little impatiently. You’re too busy munching on the flatbreads to notice. You’ve never made anything even remotely as good at this, which you think makes it tastes all that nicer.

“These are so nice! I love-“

“You still haven’t realised?” He cuts you off quickly.

You look up at him. He’s watching you intensely, biting at his lip nervously. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, brushing your fingers on a tissue.

He nods. Then shakes his head.

“I’m okay. I just. I thought you’d have noticed by now. I thought I was being kind of obvious.” He explains.

You’re confused. The sunrise is creeping in fully through Shinsou’s open windows, the chirping of the birds and the start of the morning rush cutting through the calmness of his kitchen. It’s too early for all this problem-solving. “What the hell are you on about?”

Shinsou stammers. He tries to explain, you think, but his mouth clicks shut. Instead, he quickly walks over to the closet by the front door. You lean over the counter and watch him pull something out that he hides behind his back.

“Close your eyes.”

“Shinsou, not again.”

“Humour me. Please?” 

You can’t say no to those bright eyes. You reluctantly close them again. You hear a bit of a commotion and you almost open your eyes. You fumble around the table for the flatbreads. 

“Okay. You can look.”

You do. And you’re greeted by Shinsou, wearing a pretty flowery apron that looks like it belongs in your grandma's kitchen. 

You stifle a laugh. “You look stupid. Is this what the big reveal was for? You-“

And then it clicks. 

Because you recognise that apron. It’s the same flowery apron you’ve unfortunately thirsted over multiple times. And it’s like everything just sort of clicks. The familiarity of Shinsou’s kitchen and his voice. The weird way he reacted when you brought up MindJack. Everything sort of falls into place, and you’re not sure whether to feel excited or completely and utterly mortified.

“Oh my god.” Your breathe.

Shinsou laughs a little. “Yeah.”

“Oh my god.” You groan, covering your face with your palms. “There’s no way.”

“Have you finally connected the dots?” He teases, walking back over to you.

“Oh my god. Please don’t look at me.” You wave your hands at him but he doesn’t flinch, leaning his elbows on the counter beside you.

“Why? You’re my biggest fan, after all. I’ve been dying to meet you.” He drawls and you peek at him through your fingers.

“So I’m guessing you know I’m y/neats.”

Shinsou snorts. “You did tell me yourself. And very cute username, by the way.”

He runs a hand through his hair. You rub at your eyes as if it’ll help erase you almost telling Shinsou he could wine and dine and fuck you.

“When did you even realise it was me?” You mumble.

“Two days ago. When you showed me my own YouTube page.” He reminds you and you wince.

Your brain feels like it’s running six hundred miles a minute. Shinsou and MindJack being the same person does sort of make sense. They both have the same humour, the affinity for cooking. That uncanny ability to make you feel like your fifteen with a crush again. The chances feel one in a million, and while you should still feel embarrassed, you’re starting to get a little excited. 

“You’re like, famous, you know.” 

Shinsou smiles. “I know.”

You take another bit of the flatbread. It’s so good. It’s now dawning on you that you’re eating food made by it’s original creator, which makes it taste a hundred times better.

The room has been silent for a beat too long and Shinsou watches you carefully. “Have I weirded you out?”

“No! No, not at all, I’m just. I’m shocked. And embarrassed. I’ve been- I’ve been thirsting over you to your face.” You rush out, eyes darting away from the careful look on his face.

Shinsou holds up his hands. “Hey, don’t stop on my account.” 

You huff a laugh. Shinsou still looks worried, though. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

“The second I realised, I knew I had to tell you. I felt- I don’t know, I thought it’d be weird if I knew and you didn’t.”

“I thought you’d figure it out while we were cooking.” He gestures towards his kitchen. “It’s the same setup as my videos, you know.” 

You yawn. “Shinsou, it’s six in the morning and I haven’t slept a wink. You think I have the energy to figure out this mystery?” 

He snorts. “Apologies, apologies. I thought the baking was a nice touch.” 

You smile. “Yeah, a little.”

“Well. Now that you know, and we’ve gotten all the awkward introductions out the way.” Shinsou looks at you again with those bright purple eyes, his hand reaches down to grab yours. “Will you finally say yes to my request for dinner?”

“Hm. If you let me help you cook, then sure.”

—————————————————————————-

anon I love u lemme lips u.. this is such a good prompt it was so fun to write!!!! And guys plz formatting all that text nearly killed me.

I hope u all enjoyed!!

[ghostlyferrettarot]

★🎸ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!⋆｡ °⋆Pick a Picture: How others see you vs How you really are★ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!🎧⋆｡ °⋆

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

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★🎸ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!⋆｡ °⋆Pile 1:

❤︎ How others perceive you: 🃏 The Star – Queen of Swords – Six of Wands

Hello, Pile 1! You may have heard of it before (or not), but many people see you as someone with a very special light. As if you were that person who walks into a room and suddenly everything feels a little calmer, more hopeful. They see you as elegant, wise, someone who's been through things but hasn't let them break you. In fact, you project an image of incredible mental clarity and focus, as if you have the answers others are looking for. Even if you don't say anything, your mere presence can inspire. It's no coincidence that people admire you, even if they don't always say so directly. Some may think you're "unattainable" or that you're always fine, that you don't need help because you seem to be in control of everything. Yes, that's how strong your aura is to others. Believe it too. 1.

❤︎ How you really are: 🃏 Page of Cups – Four of Swords – The Moon

But just between us, you know that appearances don't tell the whole story. Because even though you may seem strong and confident on the outside, there's a part of you that is pure tenderness and sensitivity. You have such a soft heart, full of dreams, fears, intuitions, and a deep need for rest, space, time to process what you feel. You're one of those people who dwells on a phrase someone said for days. Who gets moved by a song, a sunset, a sudden memory. Who sometimes feels misunderstood or invisible, even when surrounded by people. And there's an inner world so rich and complex that not everyone gets to see. You're also on a path of self-discovery. Sometimes you feel like you don't even know who you are, or what you want, and that's okay. You're learning to love yourself amidst the confusion, and that's braver than you think. You don't always have to be everyone's shining star. It's okay if you have cloudy days. It's okay if you need to slow down and breathe. Let them truly see you, even despite the judgment that being seen can bring. Because the people who truly love you will love both your light and your shadows. You're amazing, Pile 1, even when you doubt yourself.

★🎸ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!⋆｡ °⋆Pile 2:

❤︎ How others perceive you: 🃏 The Emperor – Knight of Pentacles – Nine of Wands

Hi, Pile 2! People see you as a rock, not in a bad way, but they can see you as someone who is hard to read. Like that person who never falls, who always has a plan, who thinks everything through and executes it with patience and precision. You're the one who gives advice, the one who seems to have your life together (even if inside you're sometimes improvising like the rest of us). Many perceive you as someone super focused, with a strong character and a will that's frighteningly firm. As if nothing could stop you. It may even be that, unwittingly, some people see you as unattainable or even somewhat closed off, as if there were a wall protecting what you truly feel. And what they may not know is that this "wall" isn't coldness, it's protection. Because what you carry inside is valuable, and not everyone is allowed to see it.

❤︎ How you really are: 🃏 Two of Cups – Ten of Wands – Ace of Swords

Inside everything feels so different, doesn't it? I really feel you pile 2, I've felt like this before. You are a person who wants real connection. A deep one. The kind that isn't just about nice words but about presence, someone who stays when you have nothing to give but your tiredness. You have a heart that wants to love and be loved, but you often find yourself holding everything up. Relationships, work, your own and other people's emotions. And that weighs on you. Sometimes so much, you don't even realize how much until your body or mind starts to say "enough." You are also very aware. You have a lucidity that cuts like lightning; you know how to see beyond the obvious. You have truths inside that scream to come out, but the world doesn't always give you the safe space to express them without feeling like you have to soften or hide them. You don't have to carry everything. You weren't born to be everyone's emotional support, or to demonstrate strength 24/7. It's okay to need. It's okay to let your guard down. There's a tremendous sweetness inside you that deserves to be nurtured, not only by yourself… but by others as well.

★🎸ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!⋆｡ °⋆Pile 3:

❤︎ How others perceive you: 🃏 The Fool – Three of Cups – Knight of Wands

Hello, Pile 3! When people think of you, the first thing that comes to mind is “freedom.” You have that high-vibrating energy, like a ray of sunshine. You're like a breath of fresh air for those around you. Cheerful, curious, spontaneous, like someone always ready for the next adventure, the next crazy idea, the next unexpected laugh. They see you as someone who doesn't complicate things, who goes through life with confidence and a contagious spark.

That person who lives up to their plans, who lifts others' spirits effortlessly. Some may even think you're a bit carefree, that everything slips away from you, or that you don't take things “so seriously.” As if your soul were always light, immune to the weight of the world. And yes… that's part of you. Im getting Sophie from Mamma Mia vibes, so others may see you similar as her.

❤︎ How you really are: 🃏 King of Cups – Temperance – Five of Cups

This is where things get real. Because behind that luminous energy, there's a heart that feels so much. Much more than you let on. You have an emotional depth that surprises. You are wise in the art of feeling, even if you don't always show it. You learned to balance yourself, to calm your own storms, and that gave you an emotional maturity that not everyone imagines you have. You are like the sea: on the outside, it may appear calm and bright, but inside, it holds secrets, currents, and intense stories. And even if people see you as happy, you are often going through things in silence. You've had losses, disappointments, moments when you gave more than you received… and that left its mark on you. But instead of hardening yourself, you decided to keep loving, keep trusting, keep shining. And that, love, is a form of courage that not everyone understands. Sometimes you wish others could see that other side of you. That they realized that being joyful doesn't mean not feeling pain. That your freedom doesn't mean detachment. That your laughter doesn't mean the absence of tears. It's okay if not everyone understands your depth at first glance. It's not your job to prove who you are: just to continue being. The people who see all that you are, not just your spark but also your soul… those are the ones worth letting in. Sending you a big hug, pile 3 <3.

⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧ Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated!⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧

[astroyongie]

✗♡✗♡ +18 Next Partner Reading ✗♡✗♡

Note: Hey everyone! February is the month of love and for that I have prepared some special readings and also games! We will start this one with this incredible reading! next up with be soft love, which will be the opposite and focused on romanticism <33 Please enjoy!

-> Reading done with: The Magical Erotic Tarot

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

-> Take a moment to breathe and focus. Choose the image you feel the most attracted to and enjoy!

ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ- ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴀᴋᴇ

-> 9 of wands, the chariot, 6 of wands

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: The first thing that strikes me in this reading is the fact that they are obsessed with you in all shapes and forms. They love your lips, your tummy. The way you, speak the way you move. Your future partner will love to show you off to the people yet he keeps things between the two of you quite discreet. They perceive you as someone so soft, so innocent. Might call you "little dove", "my bird", "bunny". You truly are someone they cannot leave without, as they have been manifesting you for longer than you have been.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: There's definitely so much passion in here, and your dynamic has a fun side of two coins. In one moment your partner will be the type to take you everywhere with them, long car rides, soft talks, pillow talks. Them drawing soft patterns in your back while you are relaxing. Yet, they would also not be scared to punish you, push you right into the bed, on your tummy when you are acting like a brat. Spanking your ass if you dare to raise your voice at them. They excel domination and respect and your dynamic would show exactly that.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: A ass person. They won't hide it and their kinks would all be around that. For the dynamic of your intimate sessions there's a lot going on. Body worshiping, spank play, ass dropping, anal, punishment play. but also overstimulation and denial depending on their mood and liking, soft degradation as well. The dynamic in the relationship also shows inside the bedroom. But this person truly would have always their hands one your, as they can't keep it to themselves

ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ

-> 8 of swords, 2 of wands, the magician

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: They probably desire you much than you desire them, and that's because their need of emotional connection is linked to their physical connection. They perceive you as someone who is seductive, someone who has caught them and now they have no issue out of this relationship, this passion, this desire. They perceive you as someone they need to possess, to own, to keep away from prying eyes. That's how much obsessed they are over you

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: You both actually have a very good dynamic, one that is flirty, teasing despite also being able to be serious when its needed. You would be the type of couple that share food, cook for one another. when you go out to eat, you can rub your feet/leg on them and they would respond. there's so much chemistry, passion and romanticism. there's no secrets, you both are able to speak to one another without hiding things

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: This is all about learning things with each other. There's a possibility that this person will have your virginity and you theirs in most cases. in other cases, it indicates someone with a lot of experience, and they will make are to show you everything they know. Threesomes, exhibitionism, voyeurism, body worship, exchange of roles and kinks related to pushing forward and exploring without boundaries. that's how much comfortable you are with them.

ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴍᴇɢʀᴀɴᴀᴛᴇ

-> The Lovers, The Knight of swords, The Sun

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: I think they perceive you as the one that will fix their heart, their ego. The one person that they found that will make it all go away and make it feel right. It feels like they would be obsessed with your style, the way you dress and act. they love your chest/breast area as well. For some of you, this person is probably in a relationship but they will leave their partner for you because the chemistry and the attraction toward you is way greater than with who they are currently.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: Okay this dynamic is quite interesting, we have here a partner that is quite dominating in the relationship. the type that will take command on things, that will dictate the relationship and provide for you. It seems like they want the other people know you belong to them, and that they are here for you. It's a dynamic where you are mostly being babied, cared for.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: There's such a good dynamic here, the sex is so hot, so passionate where you feel yourself like the happiest person in there. Some kinks I am able to perceive is hair pulling, whips, voyeurism as well. perhaps some loving missionary, naked skin agaisnt skin smash, because they need to feel you close and there. It's a sex that is truly connected and where you both take care of one another.

ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇꜱ

-> 9 of swords, The Priestess, 10 of pentacles

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: You are someone they finds very broken yet so sensual. They probably have this idea of "I need to fix them" as they see you as a little person who just needs to feel loved. They get protective of you rather quickly in the relationship, they want you close and crave you. They love your scent and your hips/waist. they would always want to have their hands in there

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: The dynamic is beautiful and the way they put you in a pedestal, you have honestly won this one. To them, you are everything, innocent and young, soft and so fragile. They would are for you, while also giving you your independence and the space to make decisions for yourself. You would mostly lead In the relationship. It's a dynamic where you both respect and learn with one another.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: Definitely calls you "kitten" in the bedroom, very "pussy drunk" type of person when it comes to you. they love to strip you naked, have their mouth in your neck and mark you up. They will worship you, kiss your body up and down for their own amusement and pleasure. feed you fruits, buy you the prettiest sets of lace. Mirror sex or like having a mirror in the roof would be also a thing it seems

ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜰɪᴠᴇ- ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏꜱᴇꜱ

-> knight of wands, the judgment, 7 of cups

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: Their perception of you is quite interesting Ig I must say. the cards show that they see you as someone they can grow old with, someone they want to adventure in the world with, someone they want to share their life with. They love your voice, your breasts/chest area as well. The type to think you are a precious diamond that can only be polish by their own fingers

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: ah, "ride or die" type of thing it seems. Like I said earlier they are the type of person who want you for life so they have made sure they treat you as the mother/father of their children, like a husband/wife material. This person treats you right, provides to a certain extent but their love for you is priority. they will always defend you, no matter what.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: there's a lot of riding sex in here, also you against their chest with they use their hands and mouth. Breeding kink, bondage and age play can be things they are into. They love making out before and during the sex, their lips on your as there's thrusts coming in and out. they are quite romantic as well inside the bedroom, slow passionate sex is preferred by them than the rough one.

ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜱɪx- ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ

-> 3 of swords, page of cups, 10 of swords

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: they see you as the person that saved them after a heartbreak. It feels like this person has been wishing for love and a partner after a huge disappointment, and the moment they saw you everything made sense. they are obsessed with you. their hand always on your thigh as they talk to you. they will serenade you because to them, you are someone who deserves all the efforts

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: Such a romantic dynamic honestly, this person and you are the type to write hand letters, notes, texts often and leave them around/send them when you least expect them to. They might call you "kitten" in some cases. A dynamic where they would stay up late until you come home, until you need them. the type that is jealous and would try to be around you every time, because there's some trust issues alongside the desire they have for you

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: mutual masturbation can be a thing inside the bedroom, soft music in the background as well, voyeurism or exhibitionism (the fear of getting caught is what I am sensing). Threesomes can be a thing or like you being attached while your partner smashes someone else (this only in certain cases). there's a lot of make up sex, making your cry during it, forcing yourself to look at your reflection as well. boob play, a intimacy that can so times get a little rough depending on both your energy

[sturnsdarling]

I don't know how to forget you

matt and y/n have been best friends their whole life, but after a drunken kiss and a night of tangled limbs, everything is changing.

vibe check: smut throughout (pretty equal sex dynamic, softdombutneedy!matt / subbutdeviant!reader), fluff, (resolved) angst, childhood best friends to idiots to idiots in love, y/n is scared of love (aren't we all), soft!matt, depressed!matt/reader, soppy confessions of love

this is a long one, kids: 12k words.

A/N: I LOVE THEM!! anyways this whole thing is based on one of my favourite songs of all time so if you don't know then get to know. I had so much fun writing this so I hope you love it as much as I do. IDIOTS IN LOVE SUPREMACY🗣 also tysm for over 200 followers you guys are insane

moodboards for this fic

love and cigs, merc

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

One month earlier 

You and Matt had been seeing each other for about six months, it all started as an innocent drunken kiss at a birthday party, that same night ending with you underneath him on his satin sheets, getting pounded into at a rapid rate. You had both decided that, as two consenting adults (your exact words when you propositioned him the idea) you should start sleeping with each other on a regular basis. What was the harm right? The sex was good, you knew each other inside and out, having been friends for basically your whole lives, and you knew that no matter what happened, you’d always love each other unconditionally. 

At first it was amazing, the sex was obviously incredible and, outside of the bedroom, basically nothing changed. No one had even noticed a difference between you two, your dynamic already being touchy and somewhat flirty prior to your decision to hook up every so often.

Despite the occasional stolen glance and white knuckled night out from being forced to watch one another get hit on by random strangers at bars, it was honestly really normal, at least it felt that way.

Being with Matt was easy, he was kind and caring, being around him was like being with yourself, there was no bullshit and no expectations. You just, saw each other, truly and completely. 

As time went on, the sex became something more, it stopped being about simply acting on an urge and started being about the closeness. The intimacy of it all. You craved him, and he was addicted to you. He stopped flirting back with the girls that pushed themselves against him at bars, and you stopped entertaining the boys that bent over backwards to get your attention. Neither of you had noticed it at first but, no one was interesting anymore. No one understood you like the two of you did, no one even came close. No one could make you laugh like he did, and no one could bring him out of his own head like you could. No one knew your body like him, and vice versa, and soon enough, the sex started to change the way you saw each other. 

Instead of seeing Matt, your childhood best friend and the kid that accidentally broke your arm by landing on you at the bottom of a snowy hill when you were kids; you saw Matt, a lingering presence of safety in a crowed room and a blissful night of endless orgasms. Instead of seeing you, the fourth wheel in his little family and the girl that bullied him for being five foot nothing until he was sixteen, he saw you, a beaming ray of light in his life and the sexiest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

The shift didn’t seem to matter, as far as you were both aware, nothing had changed. That was until one night when you were hanging out with Matt as you always did:

You and Matt were half naked, tangled up in one another on his bed, watching gravity falls for the billionth time and enjoying each others company.

You were rested against his headboard, clad in his t-shirt and your underwear, and he was rested in-between your legs, his bare back comfortably wedged between your thighs as his long, plaid pyjama pant covered legs spread over the length of his bed. Matt turned his head to the side, peppering a small kiss on the side of your leg before shifting to lift himself up off his bed, the loss of his warm pressure against you almost painful. 

“m’gonna go get a drink, baby, y’want anything?” He said, standing up and hovering next to the bed. 

You shook your head, looking up at him, “I’m good, thank you”. 

“Okay” he leant down, the weight of his arms making the bed shift under you as he placed a tender kiss on your lips, your mouths slotting together effortlessly. 

He walked out the room and the door clicked shut. In your momentary solitude, the game changing realisation infiltrated your brain.

He just called you baby, and not when you were fucking, he called you baby like, like it was your name, like it was the easiest thing to call you in that moment, like it felt right to him so he did it, or even worse, that he didn’t even think about it, like that’s who you are to him.

A sudden wave of panic came over you, the events of the last however many months flashing through your brain. The longing looks, the small jealous comments that went over your head, the lingering touches when you were with your friends, his desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days. All of it started to come together in your mind as one big puzzle of ‘holy fucking shit he has feelings for me, and not just I care about you as a friend but I also wanna fuck you feelings, real feelings’. That wasn’t the scary part though, the scary part was how effortless it felt, to you. How it all just made sense with him, how it was never weird or awkward, how you felt completely safe with him, how you felt genuinely and utterly, loved by him. 

Your rapid mind was interrupted by Matt walking back into the room. 

“Chris drank all the fuckin’ soda already, kids an addict I swear to god” he said, holding a glass of lemonade.

You chuckled slightly at his remark, your eyes fixated on your fingers as you picked and pulled at the skin of your thumb. Matt fell backwards onto the bed, half his weight on your legs. The pressure suddenly made you uncomfortable and, without really thinking about it, you pulled your legs from under him and tucked them under yourself. The movement made Matt turn up to look at you, finally noticing your weird demeanour. You never pulled away from him, if anything you did the opposite, especially when you were alone. Matts brows furrowed as he turned to lay on his stomach. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked softly, rubbing a gentle finger on your leg.

You shifted under his touch again, which worried him, a lot. He shifted and raised himself up to sit in front of you. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up. 

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his voice thick with concern. 

You shook your head, his baring blue eyes making you feel claustrophobic in your own skin.

“m’fine” you said, attempting to look away from him. 

Your energy was jarring, and Matt was utterly confused, what the fuck had happened in the maybe twenty-seconds he had been gone and why were you suddenly acting like you didn’t even want to look at him? 

“Y/n/n, I know when you’re lying, what’s wrong?” He said, trying to find your eyes again. 

You didn’t reply, only returned to picking at your thumbs. Matt simply stared at you, unable to understand why you were suddenly a tense and anxious ball of energy. 

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence, your voice coming out in a choked strain. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Matt” your eyes didn’t leave your skin. 

Those nine words hit matt like a bus, knocking the wind out of him as his mouth parted in a feeling he could only describe as agony. 

“Do what? As in, do this” he said, gesturing to himself and then to you. 

You finally raised your head to look at him, a deep sadness hiding behind your emotionless face. “I don’t think it's a good idea, it’s gone on for way longer than either of us expected, and—“ you huffed, “I just can’t do it anymore” you tore your gaze from him, incapable of the decency it took to look him in the eye as you tore his heart from his chest. 

“wh—“ Matt muttered, “where the fuck has this come from?” He shook his head, eyes squinting and brows scrunching together. 

You didn’t reply, only shifted in your own skin. Your aloofness was like sand paper against Matts skin, he barely recognised you. His mind raced with the endless mind boggling possibilities as to why you didn’t want to be with him anymore, but they all centred into one crippling thought. 

“Is there someone else?” He said, his voice dropping an octave. 

“No” you said immediately, the ‘there could never be anyone else’ staying tucked between your teeth as your head shot up to look at him. 

“So what is then? Did I— did I do something?” His tone faltered, coming out as almost apologetic. 

You shook your head, gnawing at the inside of your cheeks, “I just — you — I — ” you couldn’t find the words to make it make sense, because it didn’t, it didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of the walls closing in around you. 

“Y/n/n” your name rolled off his tongue like honey, his head shifting on his shoulders towards you slightly, his brows still knit firmly together in confusion that looked a lot like sadness. 

“I have to go” you said, unable to look at him for a second longer in fear of bursting into tears. 

“Wait—” he said, reaching out for you as you climbed off the bed and picked up your jeans that were sprawled across the floor.  

“Matt, I have to go” you cut him off, picking up your things and hurrying out the door, not looking at him for even a split second. 

You shut the door behind you and he opened it almost immediately, following you out into his kitchen, watching as you raced down the stairs.

“Y/n” he called out your name, but your pace didn’t falter, and in a flash and a slam of his front door, you were gone. 

He stood at the top of the stairs, blinking at the closed door a head of him. 

On the sofa, Chris and Nick were staring at him, waiting for him to say something and sharing flitting glances back and forth with one another. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Chris said, breaking the deafening silence. 

“Is she okay?” Nick followed his brothers questioning. 

“I have no idea” Matt said, that simple fact being the only thing he did know. 

You threw yourself into your car, slamming the door shut. The sound rang through your ears and the silence that filled the vehicle after was enough to send you tumbling into your sadness. Tears brimmed at your eyes as heavy, fast pants rapidly escaped your nose, you felt awful, you had no idea what you were doing, why did you leave like that? Why didn’t you just talk to him, he’s your best friend, why didn’t you just say something? Anything? What would you even say? I think you’re in love with me and I’m terrified that I love you too? Being with you like this has been the best six months of my life? the thought of losing you makes me feel like I'm dying? Any attempt to try and put how you felt into words made you spiral, and after a pent up moment of burning holes into the black leather of your steering wheel, the flood gates opened. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, tears cascading down your face and you hit the wheel with the palm of your hands over and over again.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were drowning in your own mind and had no way of coming to the surface. Your relentless mind was exhausting, and when your hands started to sting from your merciless slaps against the brittle leather, you clutched the wheel, resting your forehead against the material with closed eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with me” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head against the wheel. 

You pulled one hand off the wheel and turned the key in the exhaust, starting the car as you lifted your head, taking a deep, calming inhale.

You gripped the wheel once more, turning your head and looking to Matts house, all you wanted was to go back inside, tell him that you’re scared, absolutely fucking terrified of how you feel about him, but you didn't, instead, you clenched your jaw, ripped your gaze from the house and pulled out into the street. 

On your drive home through the nearly empty LA highways, your mind raced with the events of the last six months, the orange streetlights periodically illuminating your car. Your playlist blared through the speakers on full volume as your unsuccessful attempt to drown out the sound of your own thoughts was brought to fruition, ‘sex’ by eden started to play, the drums and claps filling your senses as the piano melody took your mind to the last six months. 

The longing looks;

You were wrapped in a fluffy towel, your wet hair cascading down your shoulders as you lazily rubbed moisturiser over your clean face in Matts bathroom mirror. The door clicked open, and Matt softly padded into the damp steamy room, cold air following him in. His presence didn’t disturb you, you continued to do your skincare routine as he came up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and sneaking his long tattooed arms around your waist. Neither of you said anything, you didn’t even look at him. In that moment, his presence was simply an extension of your existence.

As you softly massaged a hydrating serum into your soft skin, Matt couldn’t help but stare at you in the reflection. He loved you like this, your most pure and natural self, skin still littered with drops of water from the shower and your hair forming loose curls as it dried messily over your shoulders.

He watched you intently from his perched position just beside the curve of your neck. He thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and he could never get tired of looking at you. His gaze was heavy on your face, and once you’d finished applying all of your products, you let your eyes flit to his in the mirror, finally locking eyes with him. His mouth instantly curling up into a smile when you shot him a small grin. 

“You’re so beautiful” he said, his eye contact never wavering. 

Your smile grew and you dropped your head slightly, shaking it with an embarrassed chuckle. 

Matt squeezed you tighter to gain your attention again, missing the piercing warmth your eyes gave him. He picked his head up slightly and began to pepper short pecks on your damp, vanilla scented skin. The pecks slowly turned to small open mouth kisses, the warmth of his tongue against your skin sending shivers up your spine and encouraging a pool of wetness to collect between your legs. You let your head hang to the side slightly as he moved his kisses up your neck, stopping as he reached just below your ear. You whined as he pulled away and he laughed slightly, moving his hands to your waist and turning you round to face him.

The base of your spine was pressed against the marble counter top and Matt stared down into you, his hands absentmindedly rubbing circles against the towel that covered you. He effortlessly lifted you up and placed you on the sink, his hands finding your jaw once you landed the short jump. 

“I mean it, y’know, I think you might be the prettiest girl in the entire universe” his thumbs pressing into your cheeks as his slender fingers wrapped around the nape of your neck. 

His eyes were baring into yours, flitting between the left and right as an uncontrollable smile engulfed your face as you batted your lashes at him, returning his stare with doe eyes that almost made his knees buckle. 

“That’s a pretty damning statement, Matthew, I’m not sure I can live up to that title” You quipped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him against you, aching for friction as you throbbed at his words. 

“There’s no question about it, pretty girl, no one even comes close” he said, pushing his jogger clad, growing bulge against your desperate core and pulling your impossibly close to him. 

“Let me show you how beautiful you are” he said, just before pulling you into a wet and tender kiss.

You moaned against his lips as Matt ground his hips into yours, his fingers digging into the nape of your neck. He moved his kisses down your jaw, his tongue flat against the bone as he worked his way down your neck and along the top of the white towel that separated his mouth from his favourite part of you. A soft hand came up to the fold in the fabric and tugged at it, causing it to drop from your body and fall onto the cold marble beneath you. The sudden exposure made all the tiny hairs on your body stand on edge as Matt ogled your body, taking you in like it was the first time he was seeing you bare like that, not the hundredth.

"you're so fuckin' sexy" he uttered, shaking his head in disbelief at the sight of your still slightly wet skin glistening for him.

You rested back on the palms of your hands and spread your legs wider for him, giving him a full view of your pretty pussy that was already slick to the touch. A hungry grunt left his throat at the sight of you baring yourself to him, and without hesitation, Matt dropped to his knees and hooked your legs over his shoulders, pressing bruises into the soft, squishy skin.

You squealed slightly as he tugged at your thighs, bringing your throbbing core only centimetres away from his face. He licked his lips like an animal spotting its prey and leaned forward, pressing a soft and sloppy kiss onto your clit. your back arched into the pressure of his tongue against you as he started lapping at your soaked core, moaning at the taste of you on his lips. Your fingers raked through his hair and tugged at the root, pushing him further into you as your hips involuntarily bucked into his face, grinding against his mouth as he worked his tongue over your weeping pussy.

His hand snaked its way down your leg, his blunt fingernails scratching down your skin as he brought his digits to to just below his chin, rubbing small circles at your entrance with the tip of his long finger, teasing your walls as they clenched around nothing, desperate for him to give you what he knows you want.

"mhph, Matt, please" you whined with furrowed brows, hips slowly grinding against his face.

Matt looked up at you with smiling, prideful eyes, dipping his middle finger into your soaked hole just enough to elicit a broken moan from your throat. As your walls loosened their grip around his finger, he slipped his ring finger inside, pushing them both in to the knuckle as he sucked on your clit, eyes still baring up into you as your head hung loose on your neck.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, but his pace on your clit was fierce, as if he was attempting to suck the air from your lungs out from of your pussy.

Your high was fast approaching, and your whole body began to tense above him, your legs unintentionally closing shut around his head. Matt didn't care, he wanted you to close him in, keep him there for the rest of time so he could make you cum all over his face over and over again until you felt as if you could pass out from exhaustion.

His fingers began to curl up into that blissful sweet spot, your stomach tensed in response and he knew you were close to coming undone. He slurped and lapped at your folds, his tongue dipping between them to catch the very centre of your clit, toying with the nub as he relentlessly filled your walls with his long fingers.

"Oh, fuck, Matt" the pressure of his tongue against you was euphoric, and a wave of tingles covered every inch of your body.

Your walls were a vice around his fingers and, with a tantalising suck on your sensitive nub, you released warm cum all over his hand. You shook above him, your vision going blurry as he continued to devour you, bringing you to a white hot level of ecstasy that left you a blubbering, whimpering mess on the bathroom counter.

When your legs stopped tensing and hung lazily over his shoulders, Matt pulled his fingers from you, licking them clean just before placing a soft peck on your puffy clit. The feeling made you jolt and he chuckled, his warm breath acting as a soothing wind to your sensitive pussy.

Matt got to his feet, his hands instantly gripping at your thighs to wrap you around him once again. He kissed you like he was a man eating his last meal, the taste of yourself still heavy on his tongue as it pressed and pushed against yours.

"taste that, pretty girl? you're beautiful even down to the sweetness of your perfect pussy" He pulled away from you, to say just before biting down on your parted bottom lip

The small, jealous comments that went over your head;

You, the boys and a few of your mutual friends were in a bar somewhere in downtown LA. Your hands were pressed against the wood of the bar as you waited to be served, the crowds of people surrounding you making you somewhat invisible to the bartender who, famously served all the influencers first and annoyingly ignored anyone who didn’t have a brand deal or over a million followers. 

“Hey gorgeous” an unfamiliar voice disturbed your failed attempt to order a round for your table. 

You looked to the side, and were met with the glaring stare and bitten lip of yet another guy who wanted to buy you a drink and disappoint you sexually. 

“Hi” you said, turning your attention away from him just as fast as he caught it. 

“Can I just say, you’re the hottest chick in this whole bar” he rested a sweaty hand on your shoulder. 

You shrugged off his touch and looked back to him, “thanks” you said quickly, instantly skeeved out by the feeling of his hand on your skin. 

“Let me buy you a drink” he said in what seemed like his attempt at a seductive tone, bringing his hand back up to you and pushing your hair off your shoulder, letting it fall down your back. 

“I’m good, dude, I’m just trying to get a round for me and my friends” you shifted away from him. 

He edged closer to you, running his fingers down your arm and grasping at your hand, 

“I can get the round, I’ve got money like that, baby” 

The name made you feel physically sick, and before you could open your mouth to tell him to kindly fuck off, the comforting sound of Matts voice rang through your ears. 

“You good, y/n/n?” He said, coming up next to you and wrapping a tight hand around your waist, pulling you into him, his eyes never leaving the meathead trying to touch his girl.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy said, instantly squaring up to Matt. 

“S’not important, dude, jus’ leave her alone, yeah?” He said, shifting slightly towards the guy, his hand never leaving your waist. 

“What are you, her boyfriend or something?” He laughed, pressing firm fingers into Matts shoulder. 

Matt chucked at the attempt to rile him up, pulling his arm from your waist and planting himself directly in front of the dickhead that just pushed his shoulder. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, bringing him back down to reality as he looked down into your soft, sparkle covered eyes. 

“Don’t” you said, applying a warm pressure to his sternum. 

His jaw clenched as his heart rate slowed, the feeling of your hand against his chest a soothing balm to the burning rage that had ignited in him. 

“Fuck off, dude, m’not interested in whatever you think you’re gonna get out of this” you said, pushing Matt behind you and giving the creep the dirtiest look you could muster up. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “whatever, bitch, you’re ugly as fuck anyway” he said as he sulked away. 

“Oh, I’m gonna break his fuckin’ jaw” Matt said, attempting to slip out from behind you and follow the guy through the bar. 

“Matt” you said, grabbing his hand, “leave it” you said, pulling him back to you, catching his eye-line, “I’m fine, okay? He’s irrelevant”. 

He stood a few feet away from you with a clenched jaw, his hand still in yours as you glared at him. He rolled his eyes and returned to your side. 

“Kids just asking to get his shit rocked” he huffed, resting a protective hand on the base of your spine. 

“I'm sure someone will knock him out at some point” you said, a smirk forming on your face as you returned your attention to the bar tender. 

“I could have blinded him just for talking to you” he muttered, watching as the same guy sauntered over to other helpless victim. 

“Fuckin’ idiot thinks he has a chance in hell, tryna hold your hand and shit” he scoffed, “dickhead” Matt spat, finally tearing his eyes off the guy. 

You peered up at Matt and he met your gaze, a soft smile forming on his lips at the sight of you. You chuckled and shook your head, and just as you were about to tell him how sexy he is when he’s angry, you were interrupted by the bartender. 

“What can I get for you?”

The lingering touches when you were with your friends;

You were all hanging out at the boys’ house, watching films and talking about nothing, and everything. You were perched on the sofa, both of your legs tucked under yourself as you lazily scrolled on your phone. Matt was next to you, his legs in a wide man-spread as his back rested against the plush sofa cushions. His arm was rested against the back of the couch behind you, a comfortable warmth engulfing you just enough to not rouse any suspicion. 

His fingers absentmindedly traced he curve of your bare shoulder as he joked with Nate and Chris, all three of them laughing about something you weren’t listening to. 

“Y/n/n” Nick said from the kitchen, bringing your attention away from your phone, “can you come help me with this, I’m so fucking confused” he said, holding a cookie ingredient box in his hands, reading the back with furrowed brows. 

You looked over Matts shoulder towards the kitchen and let out a short chuckle, “Yeah, sure”. You shifted, and placed your feet on the floor, using Matts leg to help you up from your comfortable position on the sofa. 

The pressure of your hand against his leg went straight to his crotch, and as if on instinct, his hand met yours on his thigh for a moment as you pushed yourself up. You turned to look down at him over your shoulder as your hand slipped from under his, he looked at you like you were the only person in the room and you returned the favour, padding away from him and facing your attention towards Nick, who was standing, baffled in the kitchen over the instructions that ‘made no fucking sense’. 

His desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days;

“Fuck, angel, I missed your pussy so fuckin’ much” Matt grunted into your neck as he pounded into you, slow and hard, sucking on the curve of your jaw and occasionally biting down on your soft skin. 

Your moaned at his words, legs wrapped tight around him with your feet locked at his waist, your hands clawed at his back as he stretched you out, the sensation of him relentlessly hammering into you completely overwhelming your senses. The weight of his body against yours was blissful, his warm skin pressed against yours as you kissed and sucked at his shoulder, desperate to feel every part of him against every part of you. His hands were pressing bruises into every inch of your skin, the feeling of you clenching around him sending him into ecstasy as he thrust in and out of your sopping pussy. 

“Y’so fuckin’ perfect, literally perfect, this pussy was made f’me, made jus’ f’me” he was rambling, desperate to let you know how much he had missed you. 

“Mphm, Matt, don’t stop, please, don’t stop” you whined as he hit that gummy spot deep inside you, his dick nestling perfectly inside your slick walls. 

“Keep saying my name like that, please baby, say it again f'me” He said, craning his neck up to look down at you, his eyes fluttery at the heavenly feeling of being completely surrounded by you. 

“Matt” you moaned, throwing your head back as he thrust deeper inside of you, the soft pressure of the top of his pelvis periodically pressing against your puffy clit. 

Matt groaned, dipping his head down to capture your neck in a tingling bite, just before soothing the sting with a warm and flat tongue. 

“Ugh, Matt” you whimpered, squeezing your legs tighter round him, your hands finding his sweaty curls. 

Matt near enough growled into your skin, picking up his pace as he hungrily fucked you with unwavering force into his bed. The sting of your fingers pulling his hair, coupled with the pulsating heat of your throbbing pussy sent him over the edge. With a loud grunt and stuttering hips, he came harder than he had in weeks, his vision going blurry as he nestled himself further into the crook of your neck, biting down on the fleshy meat of your shoulder. He slowed his pace completely, slowly fucking his cum into you until he felt paralysed by your warmth. 

“Jesus Christ” he uttered into your hair. 

You peppered kisses along his broad shoulder and up his neck, biting at his earlobe, earning an involuntary buck of his hips into your cum soaked hole. He begrudgingly pulled out of you, his soft dick hanging down between his legs as he fell down on top of you, his crushing body weight making you sink into the mattress. Your hands played with his hair as he caught his breath, head rested on your bare chest and hands rubbing at your boiling skin. 

“Take it you missed me then?” You muttered, enamoured with his tired and fucked out frame lazily pressed against you. 

He simply nodded against your skin, bringing a large hand up to palm the curve of your breast. “S’much” he said, just before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it with vigour. 

You giggled at the sensation, shifting under him slightly as he pressed his already hardening dick against your thigh.

“Matt” You laughed, squirming under his touch. 

In one swift movement, he flipped you both over so that you were ontop of him, your wet pussy pressed against the base of his sticky cock. 

“Need more, princess, now, please” Matt said, a spread hand coming up your spine and he brought you down to him. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed you like he was starved of your touch.

“m’never gonna get enough a’you” He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of your folds brushing up and down his stiff cock sending him into heavenly overstimulation. 

The final beat of the song brought you back to reality,

and before you realised it, you were back at your apartment, pulling into your parking lot and making your way up to your empty home. 

Your apartment was covered with Matt; a spare pair of his dirty, beat up airforces sat next to your messy array shoes by the front door, dried out flowers in jars were scattered around your whole apartment, all ones he had gotten you for birthdays or special achievements, or just because he saw them and thought of you. His jackets were hung up on your hooks, and his shirts were thrown lazily into your laundry baskets. Cards and notes were littered on your fridge and window sills, all just little messages he’d leave you throughout your entire friendship, even before you started sleeping together. 

You kicked off your shoes and padded over to the fridge to get some water, old photos and memories stared back at you. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the door, but your arm didn’t budge, your attention was fixated on the array of photos stuck to the fridge. 

You had a photo of you and the boys when you were younger, your mum had found it when she was clearing out some old stuff and you simply had to steal it from her albums. There was another photo that Nick had taken at some party you don’t really remember and then there were two photos of you and Matt. One of them was a photo booth picture from some influencer thing he dragged you to, and the other was from your birthday last year. Just below the pictures, Matt had stuck a note under the floral magnet, you had no idea when he did it and honestly didn’t even notice it until that very moment. The note read, ‘hi, you’re pretty, have a nice day’ in what looked like his best attempt to have neat hand writing. 

You glanced over the photo from your birthday, it was just after you guys had started seeing each other, and the boys had decided celebrating your birthday away from LA was non negotiable, so you all went home to Boston and had a proper family birthday. It was perfect, and for that short week, everything in your life felt like it was finally falling into place. Tears began to prick at your puffy eyes once more as you stared at the picture, his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, a cheesy grin spread across your face as he made one of his usual silly faces for the lens of Nicks camera. 

Your heart sunk in your chest, and for the first time since you met Matt all those years ago, you felt completely alone. You had done the one thing you were the most afraid of being done to you; you had walked out on him, without even stopping to tell him why. You had acted like everything you hated, and the shame you felt, coupled with a deep sadness and a looming feeling of heavy regret were all only exacerbated by the fact that, the only person you wanted to speak to about how you were feeling, was Matt. 

Back at his house, Matt was in his living room, sat across from his brothers, his elbows rested on his wide knees as his head hung on his neck, resting in his palms.

“You and y/n have been… fucking?” Chris said, fully spread across the sofa as he stared at Matt in bewilderment. 

“Don’t say it like that, Chris” Nick hit Chris on the chest, turning back to Matt and perching his head on his hand, looking at him with soft features that reassured Matt that he was listening, “carry on, Matt” he said. 

“It um— it started about six months ago, after Quens’ birthday party, d’you remember?” He said, brushing his hair out his face with a huff. 

“Oh, yeah, I remember that, you guys ended up kissing during that weird card game, right?” Nick said, recounting his hazy memories from the party. 

Matt nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, “We ended up sleeping together that night, I brought her back here and she snuck out in the morning before you guys woke up”

“You sneaky motherfucker, if this whole situation wasn’t depressing as fuck I’d be so proud of you dude.” Chris leant forward and grabbed Matts shoulder, shaking him slightly and beaming at him, trying to coax a smile out of him. 

A lazy smile creeped its way onto Matts face as Chris patted his back, that alone was enough to let him know that behind his sad eyes, Matt was still in there somewhere. 

“Wait, so, what happened? Why did she suddenly decide that she doesn’t want to see you anymore?” Nick pushed, just as confused as his younger brother. 

“I’ve got no fuckin’ idea, one minute we were fine, just chilling and watching gravity falls, and the next, she won’t even look at me” Matt sighed, his voice cracking as he spoke. He threw himself back onto the sofa and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands, groaning and trying not to cry. 

Chris and Nick shared a worried look, furrowed brows and concerned eyes pouring into each other as they both returned their attention to Matt, who was still shifting in his skin, the most worked up they’ve seen him in, well, in six months actually.

“Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay, okay?” Chris placed a comforting hand on Matts knee, squeezing it slightly, “we’ve known her for like literally forever, whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll figure it out and come back” 

“Yeah” Nick said, moving to sit on the other side of Matt, “maybe she’s just having a moment or something? You know how she gets sometimes” he reassured Matt with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m just—she jus’—I just don’t understand” Matt shook his head, hands raking down his face as frustrated tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

“Hey” Chris said gently, his voice wavering at the sight of Matt nearly crying, “Its okay, bro, you’ll figure it out, and besides even if you never get to fuck her again, I’m sure you’ll always be best friends” 

“Chris” Nick said quietly through gritted teeth, his hand gently rubbing Matts shoulder as he shot Chris a glaring look. 

“What?” Chris replied, innocently, not understanding what he said wrong. 

Matts head rolled against the back of the sofa, he let out a small chuckle and shook his head, a groan slipping from his lips, “I don’t care if I never get to sleep with her again dude, I jus’—“ he sighed, “I think I’m in love with her” he closed his eyes and squeezed his back teeth together, clenching his jaw as a throttling wave of sadness came over him, “and now I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to tell her” 

In the month between you walking out and you both crashing back into each other,

you didn’t see Matt or the boys once. You completely isolated yourself, refusing to even think about what had happened. The night you came home, after hours of crying in the shower and wanting the world to swallow you hole, you decided that simply forgetting it ever happened was the best plan of action. If it never happened, then it didn’t need to matter. But it did happen, and it did matter and you became a shell of yourself, existing on auto pilot everyday. 

All you did was work and sleep, your social life becoming quickly non existent without the boys to coax you into actually leaving the house. You stopped replying to anyones messages in the first week, turning off all notifications and letting the little red bubble get longer and longer as the messages piled up in your phone. Everyday you managed to get yourself out of bed was a miracle, and if you showered and brushed your hair, it should have counted as an eighth wonder of the world. Your life had become an agonising picture coloured by shades of grey, all of the colour being stripped from your world when you slammed the door in your best friends face. 

You couldn’t understand why you couldn’t just call him, tell him that you were sorry, that you freaked out and acted like a fucking idiot, and that all you’ve ever wanted is for him to be around forever, in whatever shape that may take. You loved him, you had loved him since you were a child, but having sex with him, and being his in those fleeting moments of passion made you fall in love with him, and the thought of that made you feel like you were driving down the highway on the wrong side, cars flying towards you at a hundred miles per hour as someone blindfolded you and told you to keep driving. But not because of him, he was perfect. He was one of the only people in the world who you really trusted, who you knew you could always rely on no matter what and no questions asked. It was because of you, something inside of you felt broken, and you had no idea how to fix it. 

Matt wasn’t doing any better;

Unless he had to film or take a meeting, he barely left his room. He pushed away any attempt from his brothers to talk about you or what had happened since the night he told them about the two of you, not wanting to be reminded of the agonising feeling that had wedged itself between his ribs since the night you left.

His temper was shorter than ever, constantly snapping at one of the boys for tiny things and losing his shit every time a minor inconvenience happened. His parents got word of the fact that you two had stopped talking and tried to be there for him, your mum too, but he pushed everyone away. No one had the ability to crawl inside his brain and plant flowers in his weeds like you did, and he knew that, so he didn’t see the point in letting anyone even try.

After a certain point he stopped talking to everyone, only interacting with Chris or Nick when he really needed to and ignoring all the calls from Nate, his parents or Justin. He just wanted to be left alone, because at least then his reality would reflect how he felt. You had left a gaping hole in his life and slowly but surely, he was falling deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of that hole, letting the heavy sadness consume him with reluctant acceptance. 

Despite his temper and moping about, his brothers never stopped trying; 

A soft tap rattled his door, and a few seconds after, it creaked open, letting in a slither of light into his dark bedroom. 

“Matt? We’re gonna go get wing stop, d’you wanna come?” Chris said softly, peering his head through the crack in the door. 

Matt didn’t respond, he was tucked up to his neck in his duvet in his dark room, the only light in the room being that of his low brightness computer screen playing an array of depressing songs on loop and the light that Chris had welcomed in when he opened the door. 

“Matt, dude, you haven’t left your room in days, you gotta eat something” Chris sighed, his refusal to accept this new version of Matt apparent. 

Matt simply turned away from the door, turning his back to Chris in a silent ‘fuckin’ leave me alone’. Chris huffed, shaking his head and clicking the door shut. 

Nothing was working, and they had no idea if he was ever going to be okay again. Normally, he would mope about for a couple days and then be back to his usual silly, kind self. But this was different, he seemed completely void of anything that made Matt, Matt. 

Nick was fed up of his behaviour, and despite Chris’ constant battle with him over ‘just giving it time’, Nick knew, as his older brother and best friend, that it had all gone too far. So he took matters into his own hands.

That night, Nick got an uber to your apartment,

knowing it was your day off work and that you were almost definitely in the same position as Matt; not leaving your house or talking to anyone.  

The uber pulled up next to your apartment block and he got out the car, striding up the stairs to the entrance and relentlessly pounded against your front door. The sound made you jump in your skin, pulling your attention away from the last episode of season two of gravity falls, a show that hadn’t left your tv in weeks. When you didn’t answer the door to the first round of banging, it started again and you reluctantly pushed yourself off your sofa and walked over to the door as it vibrated on its hinges. 

“Okay, okay, m’coming, Jesus Chris” you groaned.  

When you opened the door, you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in weeks. 

“Nick?” Your face dropped in confusion.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n/n” he started sounding off immediately, pushing himself into your apartment. 

“wha—“ you started to speak, but were immediately cut off. 

“In what universe is it okay to just go completely ghost on your best fucking friend? What the fuck were you thinking? Matt has been in a shit state since you ran out that night and I’m fuckin’ sick of it! He’s angry at everyone, he’s nearly gotten in actual fights with me and Chris about a thousand times and he’s even stopped talking to our parents. Our parents y/n.” Nicks face was nearly bright red with anger as he paced around your apartment. 

“Nick, I—“ you folded your arms over your chest, his words hitting you like bullets of reality. 

“No. I’m not finished.” He held his hand up to stop you speaking, “I don’t know what the fuck happened between the two of you, but you need to sort it out, because I can’t sit here and watch this all unfold anymore. I think what you fail to remember, is that despite the fact that you were fucking him, he was also supposed to be your best friend. We all were. When you walked out on him, you also walked out on me and Chris. You left us all high and dry without a single explanation and zero entrance back into your life to try and figure out what the fuck happened.” Nick finished his rant and took a deep inhale, his first real breath since he stepped foot in your apartment. 

The apartment was silent for a moment, you not knowing whether or not he was finished. “Can I speak now?”

“G’head” Nick replied, raising a hand, gesturing you to say your part. 

“I’m sorry that I walked out.” You said, it being the only thing you could think to say in that moment, “I didn’t know he was going through all of that” you said, averting your gaze to the floor. 

Nick chuckled in disbelief, “cut the shit, y/n/n” he said, “you know what he’s like, probably better than anyone. You know because you’re exactly the same, I mean, look at you, you look like shit” he said, not holding back, then again, when did he ever. 

You looked back up at him and couldn’t help but chuckle as his insult, “What are you talking about? M’fine” you shrugged. 

“Yeah sure you are, kid” Nick rolled his eyes, taking a few steps forward and lingering just in front of you. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and honestly I don’t really care. But I do care about him, and I care about you, and I know that this is killing you as much as its killing him. so just stop being a fucking idiot and go tell him that you love him, because I’m tired of his stinking fuckin’ attitude and I miss you, I miss my best friend, we all do, Matt more than anyone” he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his warm skin pulling a single brick from the dam that had all your crippling emotions stuffed behind it. 

Tears brimmed at your eyes and Nick sighed, bringing you into an all encompassing hug, holding your head against his chest as you sobbed into him. He held you like that for a while, letting you cry in his arms as he cooed and rubbed the back of your head in the gentle embrace you were wrapped in. When you finally stopped shaking, you pulled away from him, wiping your tears and looked up at him through wet lashes. 

“What if he hates me?” You sniffled, your voice still shaky. 

Nick shook his head with a breathy laugh out his nose, “I don’t think he could hate you even if he wanted to, you’re everything to him” 

You and Nick shared another hug before he said he had to go and meet everyone in the city, asking you if you wanted to come and not pressing when you shook your head no, telling him you just needed to be alone. He left and you were alone again, your mind now racing with everything he had said, his words giving you the reality check you needed.

Back at the boys' house,

Matt was padding around the kitchen, he had left his room about ten minutes after he heard the front door click shut and he knew he was alone. As he shuffled around in the cupboards looking for a bowl for his hundredth meal of instant noodles, the front door slammed shut, and a burning annoyance filled his entire body. Chris came bounding up the stairs, seemingly in a hurry, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of Matt, actually out of his bedroom. 

“Oh, you’re up, I jus’ came back ‘cause I forgot my wallet” he said, grabbing his wallet off the table. 

Matt didn’t respond, he didn’t even acknowledge Chris’ presence. 

Chris went to leave, rolling his eyes and not even attempting to bother trying anymore but, in true Chris fashion, he was determined to find his brother inside this strange ghost that had infiltrated his home. 

“Look, dude, I know you’re hurting, trust me I get it but, you can’t keep letting this bring you down forever. There has to be a point were you realise that this isn’t healthy” He sighed, walking back to stand next to the table. “I know you love her, and I know that this whole situation is killing you, but maybe if you jus —“ he sighed, “maybe if you jus fuckin’ speak to her then you can sort all of this out, she can come back and everything can be normal again, ‘cause, its hard as fuck seeing you like this man and, even though I don’t love her like you do, I miss her too, she’s been around forever and it feels like we're a table missing a fuckin’ leg or some shit so, jus’ speak to her. what’s the harm in just trying, y’know?” 

Matt, with his back still to Chris, shifted where he stood slightly, opening his mouth to reply but swallowed his words. 

Chris sighed and shook his head, turning on the balls of his feet and running down the stairs. The slam of the front door echoed through the house, and Matt was soon left with the deafening silence left by Chris’ absence.

His brothers words ran laps around his mind, he knew he was right, this couldn’t go on forever, and he should just speak to you, but how was he even supposed to begin to try? Was he supposed to just show up at your apartment, tell you how he was dying inside, how this past month had been the hardest of his entire life and that he had missed you every single second of every day that passed painstakingly slowly? Was he supposed to just show up at your home, grab you by the face and tell you that he loved you and that he never wanted to be without you ever again? As the rapid thoughts bounced like pinballs against the walls of his skull, he realised that, that was exactly what he was going to do. 

He slammed the cupboard door shut and strode over to the table, picking his keys up and near enough sprinting down the stairs, not even stopping to put shoes on as he pulled the front door open and stepped out in front of his house. 

As he stepped out into his front yard, his heart fell down into his stomach at the sight of your shadowy frame, standing just a few feet from his front door, arms crossed over your pyjama top clad chest. He was paralysed, he didn’t know if he was dreaming or, if somewhere between the kitchen and the door he fell over and cracked his head open.

“Y/n” he choked out, it being the only thing he could muster up in that moment. 

“Hi” you said in a small voice, a shy smile finding your lips at the sound of him saying your name. 

Matt couldn’t move, feeling as though the ground had grown hands that had wrapped themselves around his ankles. You made the first move, taking a step into the light, the orange street lamp illuminating your features. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, your beautiful face in his sights again after what felt like an eternity.

You walked closer to him, warmth radiated off him as he stared down at you with a slightly parted mouth. Neither of you spoke, you had no idea what to say, you just stared into each other for that long moment, the world shifting on its axis around you as suddenly, face to face like this, you felt like the only two people in the entire universe. Your eyes flitted between his, your lips periodically getting caught between your teeth as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

Matts eyes explored your face, as if he was memorising every inch of it incase it was the last time he was seeing you, incase this wasn’t real and he was asleep in his dark room. His gaze flitted to your plump lips and it sent a twinge up your spine, and without thinking, you latched your hands round the back of his head and pulled him down into you in a feverish, desperate kiss. He returned the kiss almost immediately, his hands slipping round your waist and pulling you into him in a frenzied attempt to feel you close to him again. 

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

He kissed you back hungrily, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you backwards onto his bed. You hit the bed with a small whimper as his mouth detached from yours, his tongue flattening against your neck, then your chest, then your stomach and then back up the way he came.

Your hands latched onto his curls as your back arched at the sensation of his mouth against you for the first time in what felt like forever. He moaned against your skin, grinding his hard cock into your desperate core, your clothes creating a frustrating amount of friction between the two of you.

He bucked his hips into yours, your legs tightening around his waist with every thrust. You were desperate, and he was starved of you. His large came to your open shirt and pushed it down over your shoulder, his perfect teeth clamping down on your soft skin. His mouth found the curve of your tit, pulling the lacy fabric of your bralette down to expose your hardened nipple to him. With one hand on your waist, and his mouth latched around your nipple, Matt groaned into your skin. Your head rolled back at the sensation of his warm tongue on you, your whole body felt like it was on fire as his touch became feverish.

"Matt, please, please, I need it, I need you" you whined, you weren't sure what you were begging for but the pleads spilled from your mouth almost on instinct.

Matt removed his mouth from you and tugged at your shirt, you shifted slightly to assist him as he threw it across the room. He palmed the flesh of your half exposed tits, growing frustrated at the sight of the baby blue lace of your bralette that kept him from seeing you completely. With one swift rip, he tore the flimsy fabric open at the seams, leaving it in scraps on his mattress. The vision of your heaving chest incited something animalistic in him and he instantly dove down, latching his mouth around you once more.

The moan that left your throat was guttural, your back arching off the bed as his hand slipped down between the two of you, skipping the teasing and heading straight for your throbbing clit. The tip of his middle finger found your nub instantly and without hesitation, he set an agonising pace, rubbing blissful circles over it as his tongue continued to work your nipple. He moved his hand down, swiping his ring and middle through your sopping wet folds. Your toes curled at the feeling and with that, Matt inserted his long fingers into your tight hole.

The feeling of you clenching around his fingers made his stomach tense, a deep, hungry moan leaving his mouth and vibrating around your tit. Your thighs clenched around his wrist, he brought his knee to yours and pushed your legs open with brute force, pinning you open for him as he made his way down your skin with wet and sloppy kisses. As he moved, he pulled down your pyjama bottoms and panties, the cold air peppering goosebumps all over your skin as he slowly exposed you to him.

You were completely bare, spread out on his bed. He got to his feet, knees resting on the edge of the bed as he gawked down at you, his chest heaving in anticipation at the sight of you like this for him, something he thought he'd never see again.

"are you sure y'wanna do this?" he said, removing his hands from you completely.

"Matt, you're the only thing I've ever been sure about in my entire life" you panted, sitting up, placing your hand on his chest and leaning up into him.

His fingers pressed against your core once more, attaching his lips to yours as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

"I've missed you, so fuckin' much" Matt confessed into the kiss, pushing you further up the bed as he crawled between your open legs.

Your hands came to the waistband of his joggers and pushed them down with desperation, moaning into the messy kiss as he thrust his slender fingers in and out of you at a tormenting pace. You wrapped your hand around his cock and he bucked into your touch, chasing the feeling of you pumping him. He broke the kiss with a breathy whine, head dropping to the crook of your neck as he assisted you in lining his throbbing length up with your sopping hole. He pulled his fingers from you and rubbed small circles over your clit, you pressed his leaking tip against your hole.

Matt moaned your name, the feeling of your wet pussy so close to being around him making his vision go blurry.

His hand came to your face, pressing bruises into your cheek as he shifted you both to lay on your sides, facing each other. He moved his hand down, lifting your leg and hooked it over his waist, pulling you into him with such force that a short squeal left your lips. You continued pumping him, rubbing his tip through your folds, when you brushed him back over your hole, Matt bucked his hips, the sting of him stretching you out for a brief second inciting throaty moans from the both of you.

Once he had a taste, he was lost in it, and Matt pushed himself inside of you again, this time allowing himself to bottom out in your gummy, soaked walls. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, your forehead pressing against his as he breathed desperate moans into your open mouth.

"Jesus christ you feel so fuckin' good" Matt whined, thrusting into you with one hand tucked between your face and his pillow, and the other on your thigh, the pressure of his touch sure to leave bruises behind.

He was bottoming out completely as your pussy milked him, clenching around his hard cock, and you felt as if you could cum from the sensation of his touches alone. Your whole body was tingling, every inch of your skin on fire with pure bliss as he fucked up into you at a steady pace.

"Matt, go faster, please" You whimpered, clawing at the back of his neck, tugging at the messy curls that gathered there.

He didn't need to be told twice, with a low growl, Matt set a rapid pace, fucking into you like it was the last thing he would ever do. Your moans were pornographic, the sting of his skin slapping against yours, coupled with the blissful stretch of your pussy around his cock sending you into a deep state of euphoria.

Matt grunted repeatedly, moaning your name over and over again as he fucked into you desperately. His moans made your ears ring, you brought a hand down in between you both and collected some of the juices that leaked from your pussy onto his cock, moving your fingers up to rub rapid circles across your puffy clit.

Matt grunted at the sight, his grip on your skin turning to blunt nailed scratches as he hardened his thrusts, pounding into you relentlessly as you worked your clit.

"keep doing that, angel, keep doing that for me, you feel so fucking good clenching around me like this, jesus christ, you're so fucking sexy when you touch yourself for me" he was rambling, completely consumed by the sight of you, the feeling of you milking his cock bringing him closer and closer to his release.

"fuck, Matt, m'gonna cum, m'gonna cum" you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he fucked into you at a rapid pace. the sensation of his merciless grip on your skin coupled with the stimulation of your throbbing clit making you see stars.

"cum for me, angel, cum f'me, I'm right there with you, m'right there with you" his words were almost incoherent.

The sound of him telling you to cum was enough to send you tumbling down into ecstasy, and he was right behind you. The vice grip your clenching pussy had around his cock was incredible, and wet sounds of your cum releasing all over his length filled the air as his pace became sloppy, chasing his high as he stuttered inside of you.

"Fuck, Matt" you cried out, and the sound of you crying out his name sent him over the edge.

He released threads of ropy cum into your gaping hole, fucking his seed into you as his movements began to slow.

Your breathless pants filled the room as you both came down from your highs, foreheads pressed against each others, sharing oxygen as your leg remained wrapped around his waist. His hand caressed the side of your face, pushing your hair out the way to look at your pretty, fucked out face. 

When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you and the feeling of his eyes baring into yours made your skin hot. 

“Hi” you smiled. 

“Hey” He cheesed back, rubbing small circles on your warm cheeks. 

After a brief moment of loving stares, reality set in, and you remembered the agonising events that led you to being here, tangled up with him like this. The dark circles around Matts eyes that mimicked your own broke your heart, and in that moment, you couldn't bare the thought of never being away from him ever again.

“I um—I’m really sorry, Matt.” Your smile dropped into a sincere, pleading expression. 

“You don’t have to apologise to me, y/n” Matt shook his head against the pillow. 

“No, I —“ you sat up, resting on your elbow to look down at him. His hand on your cheek didn’t falter and you pressed your head into his touch with closed eyes, “I do. I’m so fucking sorry, Matt. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I—I just freaked out because you called me baby and I —“ your rambling was cut off by his voice.

“Wait” he said, shifting to rest against his headboard, letting his hand drift down the soft skin of your arm, “all of this, was because I called you baby?” He asked through a short, baffled laugh. 

You nodded, some what embarrassed, sitting up completely in front of him, taking his large hand in yours and toying with the rings on his fingers. 

“But, I called you baby all the time” Matt chuckled, grasping your hand in his and gaining your attention back to his soft eyes. 

“I know, it just— it freaked me out because I think I realised in that moment that I was in love with you and, I just didn’t know how to handle that” you looked away from him again, the weight of your confession making your voice crack. 

Matts ears began to ring, “You’re in love with me?” He questioned, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. 

You locked eyes with him again, he looked so soft, his kind eyes almost sparkling with happiness at your words, “yeah, I'm in love you, Matt” you nodded, “I am, and I — I tried to ignore it, I tried to push it down and forget about it but, I couldn’t, I don’t know how to forget you” 

Matt didn’t say anything, he felt as though all the words in the English language were ripped from his brain as you told him you loved him for the second time. He simply starred at you in awe, your hand firm in his grip. 

“Can you say something, please” you said, your eyes flitting away from his for a second before returning to their prior position. 

“Y/n/n, I— I’ve been in love with you since we were ten years old” the words spilled from his mouth, a wave of utter relief washing over him at the feeling of finally admitting a fact he’s known for half his life. 

“You have?” Your expression was pleading as your eyes widened at his confession. 

“I’ve loved you more and more everyday I’ve known you, I just didn’t realise it until that night when— when we kissed” He said, sitting up and lingering inches away from your face. He brought his hand back up to your face, “You don’t know how to forget me?” He chuckled, “I couldn’t ever forget you, even if I tried, even if I wanted to” his lips brushing over yours softly as you breathed into his parted mouth. 

You didn’t respond with words, instead, you pressed your lips against his with such force that it sent him back down to his satin pillow.

You were terrified, and completely enamoured by him. You loved him more than you'd ever thought possible and he loved you just the same. And despite the fact that the idea of being loved, truly loved, scared you beyond belief, you no longer felt like you were drowning. Because you knew that no matter what happened, Matt would always be there to dive into the rocky waters and pull you to the surface.

taglist: @sturniozalt @shaquilles-0atmeal @blahbel668 @sleepysturniolo @le4hsblog @prissyhs @mattslolita

[prettyboykatsuki]

WITH HEAT AND WET SKIN | caleb (xia yizhou)

♡ tags ; fem + afab!reader, incest / psuedocest, armpit kink (kill me), sweat fetish, scent kink, light angst (SUPER light), crybaby princess reader, gege used a few times, petnames, 18+

♡ wc ; 4.3k (what the actual fuck man.)

♡ a/n ; heed the tags. sorry in advance.

takes place in mlma ficverse but can be read stand-alone. post canon. title is from 'skin' by dijon

♡ synopsis ; summer has always been calebs favorite season.

July is the hottest month of the year. The air in Caleb’s Skyhaven apartment is thick with the seasons heat.  

Summer is always the same. Nostalgic and suffocating - rife with childhood anecdotes. Memories of splitting popsicles, rolling around in the grass, propping you on the back of his bike while you were still soft enough—sweet enough—to call him gege all the time. To call on him for any little thing you needed.  

Caleb’s most fond memories take place in the summer heat. Teaching you to play hopscotch and ride bikes, racing you down the street and buying you treats when you lost, cooling off in the blazing sun with fresh watermelon and a kitty pool filled with ice.  

The older you got, the more summer became about desire. For Caleb at least, at some point - summer was something he looked forward to in different ways. How your figure cut differently, filled out at your hips as you paraded around the house and shorts and spaghetti straps. Things to be conscious of and perhaps the source of all the inferno he ever endured in his youth.  

Caleb knows the desires he's been burdened with like the back of his hand. Knows how long his eyes have traced  your silhouette in the burning warmth of the sun - comfortably stretched out in the place you both called home.  

It’s because of summer that Caleb could draw your body from memory—before he ever laid a single hand on you.  

How many nights he dreamt of it. How many times he's held you close enough, like trying to fit you into his ribs. Summer, always a season of nostalgia, also became one of heavy sins such as these.  

Still, Caleb likes spending his summers with you. Despite the melancholy longing that makes his youth bittersweet. Despite his memories of puberty and all the inappropriate things he had to (read: tried) to unlearn when thinking of you.   

Despite everything, he loves seeing the sun and how your face looks when it's kissed by it.  

Once puberty hit, summer was never quite the same.  

Now, his fondness for the season comes from other things.  

The long and short of is: Caleb is distracted.  

"It's so hot,"  

You come in from a run soaked from the sun. The apartment isn't much better condition than the outside. Caleb is currently in the middle of repairing his own AC. Summer as an adult has proved more mundane than before. 

But…  

He's thankful that he's not done yet. You click the door shut behind you and Caleb watches you from the corner of his eye—opening the fridge and yanking a vitamin water out. You crack it open and swallow it down in desperately gulps, liquid spilling from the corners of your lips. Still panting and shaky from your work-out.  

Down your neck, mixing with the beads of sweat sliding down your skin. You don't wipe your mouth after, like  you figure it doesn't matter anyway. Something drips down between your cleavage but he isn't sure what exactly. It’s incredibly distracting. He takes a deep breath - masked as one of frustration with his work, as he continues. Prying his gaze away, he forces himself to focus on task at hand.  

It’s sweltering.  

Caleb swallows, suddenly parched and burning up from the inside out. He’ll never get back the innocence from that time in his life.  

You give him a glance, closing half-finished bottle  and leaving it on the counter before  waltzing towards him completely carefree.  

"Still not done fixin' the AC? You're losing your touch.'' 

Caleb clears his throat and pretends to scoff. "Huh? As if. It's just in worse shape then I thought. It should be another hour before it's up and running again." 

You flounce over to him. You lean over the back of the couch while he sits adjacent to you. He gives you another look, this time more noticeable then the last as his hands stop fidgeting with the unit. 

It’s hard to pry his eyes when you’re so close to him. Your cleavage is just in his line of sight when he turns his head. Sweat making your skin sheen, chest rising and falling as you catch your breath from the effort. The curve of your shoulders and the dip of your clavicles, Caleb takes in a sharp inhale and narrows his eyes.  

Shaking his head, he really tries not to think about it and attempts to make conversation. Keyword: attempts. 

The words slip before he has a chance to prevent them. "...Is that really what you wear to run?"  

You pause. Stand up on your feet, frowning - already irritated. "It's over a hundred degrees. It's just a sports bra and shorts. Pretty standard for running."  

He scoffs. "Standard? For who exactly?"  

"Caleb," You say exasperated. "I'm not arguing with you. They’re just clothes." 

He pauses then. Reaching for your wrist  before you turn away to leave. Bratty as usual.  

"I'm not saying this as your Gege," He clarifies, perhaps unhelpfully. You pause. "I'm saying this as your boyfriend. It's too short."  

You turn your heel with sudden interest, amused by the admittance. Your smile betrays the next words out of your mouth. "It's not like that makes it any better. Don't you think that's a bit too much? Girls don't like guys who are so controlling, you know?"  

He rolls his eyes. "Your face doesn't match your attitude."  

You turn the corner and join him on the couch. Or that’s what Caleb thinks you’ll do. Instead you stand in from of him, leaning over and casting a shadow over his face. Your expression is mischievous, and familiar - glancing down at him with mirth. “You must've been looking at me a lot to notice it being too short."  

"It was hard not to notice." He deflects. A pout pulls on your lips.  

"Caleb,” You hum. You’ve got the lilt in your voice that makes him wonder if you do know what you’re doing after all. Caleb wouldn’t put it past you.  

Caleb doesn’t regret crossing the line with you. He never would. But it’s made your attitude worse somehow. You’ve always taken pleasure in getting under his skin, but he’s used to that. Always trying to get your way.  

There’s an added element now, an added layer to you having your fun. He can hear it in your voice when you talk, how you sway when you walk towards him. Deliberate—testing his resolves. Your voice is saccharine. “Gege,”  

“What do you want pipsqueak?”  

“Don’t say it like that,” You whine. You shift in front of him, from his peripherals. “You won’t look at me,”  

He sighs and picks his eyes up to do as you’ve asked. You’re pouting at him, face flush as lips pushed out slightly. Wet with spit and doe-eyed, Caleb gathers up all of his strength. It’s killing him. You’re killing him. He looks down again.  

This, notably, does not please you.  

“Why won’t you look at me properly?”  

“You—”  

You get closer to him. Caleb holds his breath.  

He can practically see you throw a tantrum. His eyes are still closed as he takes a deep breath and tries to regain his composure  - but he doesn’t have much of a chance. You huff at him and suddenly his things are being moved from his lap to another end of the couch—right out of his hand.  

Caleb looks up at you startled.  

Before he can say anything back, you drop yourself into his lap without word. He stammers, body reacting instantly to you.  

Your hand finds his face, palm cupping his cheek as you make him face you with furrowed brows. “Why won’t you be honest with me?”  

He breathes out. “What are you saying?”  

“You’re being all weird and evasive and I don’t like it.” You reply, pouting.  

“I’m not—It’s not like that, yeah?”  

Your frown only deepens. He won’t get out of this easily, it seems.  

“You always make me tell you everything I want so why won’t you tell me anything? Don’t you think that’s being unfair?”  

Caleb gives you a half-hearted smile. “It’s different, right?”  

“How is it different?” You say, somewhat exasperated. Your mood is only worsening. “When are you going to stop treating me like a kid?”  

He opens his mouth only to close it again, at a loss for words on the right thing to say or the right course of action to take to get you to drop it for now. It’s hard to find the right thing to say to get his point across. So he opts for what he knows best - doting on you to distract you.  

“Don’t be like this, hm? You’re tired right? I’ll draw you a bath and we can—“  

You place your hand on his shoulder and suddenly look serious. Caleb gives you a strained expression but your resolve remains perfectly. Still. “I already told you you can do whatever you want with me. Don’t you want me?”  

Your voice trembles like you’re going to cry. He wasn’t expecting that. 

“Of course I do. Don’t you know that already?”  

You huff. “So why won’t you touch me? Why do I always have to embarrass myself?”  

He wonders who he should ask for advice on things like this.  

“I’ll scare you if I do whatever I want,” Caleb says, half-smiling. Affectionate and warm and sincere. “So drop it okay?”  

Still upset, your expression droops and Caleb feels his heart shatter into a million pieces. You sniffle.  

“It’s lonely when you treat me like this. I hate it,”  

Caleb doesn’t know what to do. Despite the progress you’ve made and the steps you’ve taken - the fact you’ve already crossed the line, there’s nowhere for the guilt to go. What part of him is left wants to protect you at all costs. No matter what anyone said - nothing could get in his way when it came to protecting you.  

The only issue is now he’s the main thing you’re in danger of.  

Maybe it is unfair to see it that way. He thinks the disbelief of it being mutual will last an entire lifetime. Even now every kiss on the lips and romantic gesture makes him reel, always half-way to trying to pinching himself awake.  

He’s afraid of how much you dictate his feelings. His moods, his wants, his desires  - he’s done nothing but want you for most of his life but now that you’re his - none of it feels real.  

That’s why each time he touches you he keeps it brief. Why he tries not to go to far and hasn’t since then - despite your few attempts. He’s running out of good reasons to turn you down and it’s not like he really wants to.  

The only thing that makes you tangible is touch but he worries he’ll hold you so hard it’ll break you. Caleb knows he’s capable of it at least.  

(Caleb knows what he’s capable of in general. He often thinks of how at ease he would be if he really did trap you at home. Keep you in a gilded cage with false sun and always by your side  - clip your wings so you’re never out of his sight. Even then, he’d do it gently. 

He knows he has it in him to do that to you. He knows a small part of him never leaves it out as an option.)  

Caleb examines your face for a while longer before his hand reaches out to your wrist. You tumble into his lap as he pulls you towards him, knees landing on either side of his thighs. The heat of your body radiates off of you, warmth curling around you both as the humid summer air makes you sweat.  

“I’m sorry,” Is all he can come up with. You frown at him, delicate fingers carding through his dark hair.  

“Gege can do whatever he wants to me,” You say innocently, sweetly, sincerely. His chest tightens. “No one else. Just you,”  

It’s not giving him permission, nor is it asking him for anything. It’s a gentle reminder. Charmingly innocuous, meaningful without bearing down on him too heavy. Like you know just enough what buttons to press to make him tick. 

Caleb lets out a shakey inhale but the message comes across. And the sad look on your face is worth giving up his resolve. He kisses your palm.  

“Don’t regret this,”  

You make a small noise as Caleb dips his head down and sticks his tongue out - licking a bead of sweat just from just above your belly button to just underneath the soaked material of sports bra. He follows it with a moan so loud it reverbs and startles you. 

You squirm under him, of course you do - a slight laugh leaving your lips because it tickles. Caleb doesn’t say anything. The taste of salt and skin flood his senses and suddenly his pants feel tight. He’s resolved himself to take what he wants in hopes to alleviate the desperate pressure.  

He knows what he wants well and the first taste of it alone is enough to make him reel.  

You crinkle your nose after the fact. “I’m sweaty,”  

Caleb lets out a deflated laugh. Tries to mask how ruined he sounds but doesn’t do a good job. “I know. I know,”  

Summer has a lot of memories and milestones for Caleb - but most of all, he sees summer as a hallmark of his developing sexuality. Summer where you’d sweat out your white shirts, nipples peaking through the fabric - beads of sweat trickling down your spine. Summer where you’d where shorts that were loose and skimp with 3-inch inseams, legs flopped playing on your DS as he’d catch soft whiffs of your scent when you’d roll around.  

Summer where you’d come home from your part-time job itching to change and Caleb would so kindly offer to do your laundry.  

There’s something about the scent of your sweat that makes Caleb tick. It’s been this way for as long as he can remember. It makes him dizzy, blood rushing to his cock—desperate to press his nose into damp skin and inhale. Whenever you get sweaty, he just barely restrains himself from huffing you like paint. He likes the way it soaks your clothes when it’s particular humid, likes the sticky way it clings to your skin. The humid air around you.  

It’s a pleasant scent to him, putting it lightly. You smell good when you sweat, raw and real.  

He has a hard time putting it into words. It’s almost sweet to him - or it has that same addictive pull. It’s something subtle, a scent note underneath layers of musk that smells like you and only you. Lightly acrid, salty, loud  - Caleb can’t help but get hard every time he sees you that way. Dripping down your temples, hairs damp from the humidity, face flushed. The years of your Hunter Training where you’d come home everyday after working your ass of were some of the hardest of his entire life.  

Caleb takes in another deep breath. You squirm in his lap, startled by the press of his erection to your thigh. 

“Do you like when I’m sweaty, Caleb?” You ask with no judge or derision - sincere curiosity only. 

Calebs voice is strained in his reply. “Yeah,”  

He can feel it in his hands how over-eager he is. Practically trembling with desire, heart-racing and mind absolutely refusing to settle down. He makes the mistake of looking up at you again. You’ve got such an innocent look on your face, Caleb is almost tricked into thinking you think nothing of it.   

Your eyes have a playful quality to them. Not judgmental but coy, lashes batting.  

“Clean me up then, Gege,”  

Fuck. You know him just as well as he knows you.   

Caleb groans. His whole body breaks into a shiver, suddenly feverish as his hands find themselves frantic to undress you. 

He decides ultimately if he can’t figure out where to start - it’s better to pick somewhere and indulge all of his desires as opposed to waiting around. His fingers crawl up your midsection, sliding underneath the thick band of your sports bra before frantically sliding it off.  

He presses his nose to the material in inhales once before placing it aside. Something he’ll resist later, he’s sure.  

You make a soft sound as your breasts touch air, nipples pebbling at the slight breeze - no longer suffocated underneath the silky material. Caleb stares long and hard at your chest, thinking deeply about what he should do.  

Then, he maneuvers you both until you’re laying on your back on the couch with Caleb hovering over you.  

And, in one swift go, he drops his head down and licks the indents of your sports bra with as much fervor as he can conjure. His tongue dips into the lines, cleaning your edge to edge just like you’ve requested. He leaves no part untouched  - clumsily moving from one side to the next as he laves and cleans each inch of your skin.  

He pauses to breathe you in as he continues. Like it’s oxygen. Licks a strip from below your sternum, through your cleavage before moving his mouth again to the underneath side of your tits.  He never neglects to pleasure you, his fingers light as they touch your nipples before they meet the same fate as the rest of you with his mouth.  

When he’s near finished with your chest, he has to pause.  

Caleb is silent as he grabs both of your hands with his and pins you down by the wrist. You squeak in surprise at the sudden force but the noise falls on deaf ears.  

His brain is static. His mouth is so flooded with the taste. It’s strong - salty and sharp and acidic. He can barely think anything consciously. He just follows wherever the scent of you is strongest.  

Caleb likes to think of himself with some composure. That he’s above this  - past the stage where’d he’d bury his nose into your sweaty shorts and jerk off so mindlessly he’d be sore the following day. He’s old enough, wise enough, sensible enough. His frontal-cortex has developed. He’s gotten through puberty.  

But he feels little more than animal when he buries himself into your pits and huffs.  

You squeal. Mostly with laughter but not with disgust, thank god - because if you pulled him off of you now he might genuinely lose his mind.  

You smell so good. So good he nearly creams himself. It’s so concentrated, so thick and heavy and suffocating that Caleb can’t help but press himself into you further and breathe and breathe and breath. In and out  - lungs pushing hard as his cock stirs in his sweats. His free hand immediately goes to palm himself, itching to feel some relief as he overwhelms himself. 

Caleb licks there too. It tastes good, bitter and intoxicating. He hears you protest above him, something about being unshaved. He barely registers it, too busy pushing his tongue through the hair and licking up every bead of sweat imaginably. His brain feels permanently rewired and incapable of registering anything that might be important.  

“You’re so into it,” You say, a half-hearted mumble. Caleb looks up briefly, nose pressed to your skin still as he speaks into your pits.   

“You smell so fucking good.”  

You jolt underneath him. “You’re like a dog.”  

He can’t really deny it, but it does make him laugh a little in a broken way. He can’t hide how he’s feeling no matter how hard he tries.  

Caleb lets himself go afterward. Lets his hands off the reigns and does what he wants. Guides himself on nothing but sheer lust and the repression he’s been harboring his entire life as he licks every last droplet of sweat on your body until you’re sticky from nothing but his saliva. He spends the most time at your pits - realizing quickly that there’s no way he’s going to do this only once.  

He feels completely drunk on it by the time there’s nothing left for him even in the continuous, sweltering heat.  

There’s one part of you that Caleb has avoided entirely up until now, and deliberately - because the thought alone makes his every nerve in go alight. His stomach churns with lust, like honey through his veins. He only moves down further when he hears you plead for it.  

“Gege,” You whine. Caleb looks up from under his lashes to see your chest rising and falling - newfound interest and lust all over your face. You look debauched, even this embarrassed. “More,”  

So Caleb gives you more. “Of course princess,”  

He takes himself back down - kissing a path from your neck all the way down to your navel until he’s just above the waistband of your workout shorts. It’s a stretchy material - the kind that clings to your skin and is meant to wick away sweat from your body by soaking into the fabric instead. Caleb can barely look at them without his pants getting tight. The way they hug your figure is enough to cloud his judgment.  

But the heat radiating from between your legs - the strong, inebriating scent of your sex is enough to fucking kill him.  

He makes a noise something hysterical. He’s crazy about you - he knows this. Well and truly, more than anything in the world. But there’s something about here and now that feel strangely affirming in a way that makes him almost want to laugh. Almost.  

He doesn’t understand it no matter how hard he tries, but Caleb thinks it’s not something for him to understand. He’s appealing to baser needs being this so obsessed with you - your scent, something less logical and more tactile. 

Caleb puts both of his hands on your thighs and pulls you down further, nose buried in your sweat-soaked cunt without a modicum of shame or restraint. It’s a raw, thick smell - the kind that borders on acrid but still smells so fucking sweet to him. Nothing but your scent - distinctly yours, pheromones and all.  Uniquely yours and irreplaceable and so fucking good he wants to suffocate in it.  

He thinks of how would be the best way to go about this. He wants to savor this, no matter how frenzied he feels. You deserve to be savored in this state. Worshipped. 

He thinks of taking them off of you. Moans into your clothed pussy at the though of the hair, dampened from sweat and slick and how the taste would fill his mouth. But it doesn’t feel like enough still.  

So he settles for something else, and presses his tongue against your clothed slit.  

“Caleb,”  

He holds you down tight as he makes work of soaking your shorts with spit, lapping endlessly at the sensitive, neglected bundle of nerves. Even through a layer of fabric - he can feel your clit pulse. The heat of your cunt fills his lungs and clouds his mind as he dedicates himself to licking you through the material. It darkens a shade further right where his mouth has been.  

Caleb kisses it before he continues.  

Your voice comes as a demand. “Take them off,”  

“Will later,” Caleb hums, looking up at you apologetic. “Cum like this first,”  

Your eyes go wide. “There’s no way I can!”  

“You can,” Caleb says, so assured you slink back. “Be good for your gege,”  

You huff at him. Spoiled. Caleb adores you.  

“Fine. Make it up to me,”  

Of course he will, he thinks. After he gets his fill, he’s going to fuck you through the mattress and make some excuses to keep you home. He can never get enough which is why he was trying to show some restraint, but he’s already well beyond that and decides not to dwell.  

Caleb licks at your clit diligently, tongue pressing hard and delibrately against the seam. He knows all your weak points and he plays with them to keep you on edge, bring you where he needs. You sound sweet above him. Hips bucking into his mouth, desperately seeking more friction even as you whine about having to cum in such a way.  

Your complaints only goad him further. He loves when you act that way. Act spoiled and always having to get your way. He grinds the head of his cock into the couch as he continues to eat you out  - arousal spiking, flooding his brain with endorphins.  

When he’s gotten you wet long enough, Caleb does what he’d been planning to do from the jump and sucks the fabric into his mouth.  

Subsequently sucking up the spit, sweat, and filth that’d been collecting there the entire time. His intention from the jump.  

You gasp, your hands finding their way to his scalp. Threading through his dark brown locks and pulling, you grind your hips up into the warm cavern of his mouth. Caleb does both things together. Sucking at the material, flicking at your clit with pointed edge of his tongue - and meeting your movement with each cant of your hips, eagerly seeking your orgasm.  

Caleb wants you to cum more than he cares about cumming. He holds you tight and locks on hard - making it impossible for you to run away from the pleasure. His mind chants while his mouth busies. 

 Cum, cum, cum - fuck please.  

“Gege—!”  

Your hand grips tighter as you cum finally  - back arching off the couch, body tremoring as you grind yourself against his mouth even harder. Caleb sits there groaning, his own arousal apparent as he feels cum flood his boxers after rutting into the couch cushions beneath, as you ride out your high. You shake as you come down, slowly but surely. 

It’s silent for a beat before you break the silence. You take in a deep breath, eyes fluttering open as you look down at him from between your legs.  

“Can we at least keep going in the shower? I’m sticky,”  

Caleb laughs. “One more time with them off. Then we can,” 

“Fine. Perv,”  

Caleb is in no place to deny it.  

[frazzledfawn]

flight risk

john wick x fem reader, minors mdni

synopsis: life was perfect, despite what your parents wished for you, you had all you could possibly want. surely your husband wont wake you up at 2am and drag you across the world, uprooting everything you've ever known.

authours note: this is the first thing i've ever written AHHH AHHH AHH, thank you for reading though!! oh my goshhh, i'm so nervous.

cw: drugging, guns, suspected kidnapping, morally grey but also not john, john just wants his wife guys </3

it had been exactly 3 years since you had uprooted your life after meeting john. which sounds like a major sacrifice, because well sure, thats how your parents viewed it. the confused pinching of your mother's eyebrows as she fiddled with her wedding ring told you that. 

you didn't need to be a genius to recognise that perhaps your father didnt trust john, slipping pepper spray into your purse and a pocket knife onto your keychain as you said goodbye in the airport. maybe it was an act of rebellion moving away, far away. sure you were naive, but in a specific way. you had seen shit, a lot of shit, but you made an active choice every day: see the good. is it indescribably cliche? absolutely! but hope kept you going. 

so when you stumbled upon a particular six-foot man with a limp, you tilted your head both in awe and intrigue. your first dates were awkward, almost forced. he was incredibly vague about every little detail in his life and so naturally, you chalked that up to ‘he must not like me.’ when you asked about his family, he responded that he didn't speak to them. when you asked about his job, you got the typical ‘im a contractor’ response. what the fuck is a contractor? what are you like a spy? psh. 

but he was sweet, a gentleman too. paranoid and perhaps vigilant to a fault, but you didn't ask questions. he was just being overprotective, which was nice in your eyes. you fell deeply in love with him, getting married 2 years after meeting him. you pieced together his career. he would call you a pacifist when you commented on the number of guns he seemed to own casually. which sure, wasn’t exactly a lie. but he didn't view the world as black and white, and therefore neither should you, you decided very quickly. 

it was your anniversary so you decided to set up a beautiful, intimate dinner at home. he arrived and you pushed him away to put on some slacks, even though it was just the two of you. he would chuff, kiss your temple, and oblige. so there you sat, serving dinner, walking over to his side of the table to pour him merlot when you accidentally bumped the bottle with your hip, knocking it off the table. you let out a yelp, frozen as you watched him catch it effortlessly without breaking eye contact with you. there were 2 things to note about his actions. 

1. you were unquestionably sure that this must be the most attractive thing anyone has ever done, fuck.

2. the speed of his reflexes did not match the job description or the skillset that belongs to a ‘contractor’

the dinner continued, albeit awkward because you had questions. and to your surprise, he wasn't so vague. now he was being blunt to a fault. which you suppose married couples are. 

“im a hitman” he stabbed a shrimp sitting on top of the pile of pasta, bringing it to his mouth with a sense of casualness that was unnerving. haha. funny.

so naturally, you giggled as he chewed. 

“a hitman? john that’s- ridiculous. can you be serious for a moment? i love your jokes, but this is our anniversary dinner.” you laughed softly into your wine glass, tilting your head and propping your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on (an action that would have caused your mother to hit the back of your hand with her fork due to the improper manners you were displaying).

“not a joke baby” he hummed almost with a solemn look in his eye. the reality of the situation hit you like a freight train when he reached out to hold your hand over the table, drawing soft, soothing circles on the back of it. not a joke. it wasn’t a joke. 

he slept on the couch that night. maybe it was harsh, but no- no, he deserved that. you married a man, a hitman. who lied about his entire career and kept guns under floorboards, you didn't even know could be kicked up. alas, trust was built back up. he reassured you he only killed dangerous people who did bad things. life wasn't so black and white, you realised once again. it took a while, but you fell back to the stage where you trusted him again. 

he came home late some nights, and left to go overseas every now and then for a week or so. but he would come back with little souvenirs for you: wine from rome, chocolate from switzerland, and jewellery from india. he made money that you could only dream about, but who can put a price on taking someone's life? 

you adored him though. maybe it was fucked up, maybe you were sick and twisted. but your husband would kill for you without hesitation, and you couldnt lie to yourself and say that fact didnt turn you on at least a little bit. 

you both moved to tokyo, right in the middle of the city about a month after this dinner. relocation seemed to be a common theme, but new cities and new languages were always exciting for you. and he assured you all was well, but you had your suspicions. maybe he feared someone he pissed off would come find you, even the score and put a bounty over your pretty head. 

you enforced the fact that if you were going to sleep with guns in the house, they all needed to be locked away in gun safes. there needed to be rules, and trustworthiness for this to work. john lied, he kept a hidden one in his bedside table, and another under your bed alongside the others in the safe. 

the rain pelted, it was a sunday night, well morning technically you realised. pretty much all of japan had been hit with a tropical storm, which meant that sleepless nights in your shared highrise apartment came with built in ‘white noise’ sounds from the thunder outside. though this night, you slept soundly. it was about 1am when you faintly heard footsteps, belonging to john you assumed. 

talking in incoherent sleep babble, you didnt open your eyes, you just mumbled ‘john..?’ muffled by your pillow. whoever it was stopped what they were doing and walked over. 

“mm, hi baby. it’s me. go back to sleep mkay? it’s late.” a silky smooth voice surrounded you in a blanket of warmth and you mumbled an i love you and drifted back off.

unaware. he waited until you were out cold before he started haphazardly shoving belongings of yours into a suitcase. he proceeded to zip it up and prop the suitcase against the wall next to his own. on top of his suitcase laid two drivers liscences, marked with photos of the two of you, but with different names, addresses, birthdays. identities. you stirred in your sleep as a calloused palm gently cupped your cheek, whispering your name. your eyes blinked open sleepily. 

“hi my sleepy girl” he looked down at you, perched on the side of your bed with a soft smile, still dressed. which was odd, why wasnt he in his usual sleeping sweatpants? you sleepily blinked up at him, looking over to your digital clock. 1:47am. 

“mhmhphmh?…” you mumbled out, an unspoken question as if to say come to bed, what are you doing? your eyes fluttered closed again, snuggling back down.

“honey, need you to wake up for me, kay? im sorry, i know, i know..” he gently rubbed your back, biting down on his cheek until he drew blood, loathing himself for what he was about to put you through. his sweet, sweet girl.

“eyes open, open them up for me.” he gently tapped your cheek and begrudgingly open them, sitting up looking unimpressed. 

“it’s 2am i wanna-” you yawned softly, covering your mouth. “wanna sleep john, just come to bed.” your eyes shifted around the room landing on the packed suitcases. suddenly sleep no longer felt like a priority. 

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, tucking your hair behind your ears as you looked to him for answers wordlessly. he sighed softly, a deep one that he had clearly been holding in for a moment or two. he gently stood up, holding out a hand for you to take and pulling you up, walking you to the walk-in robe. 

“i know you’re confused, and probably scared. you trust me, don't you baby?” he looked down at you as he rummaged through clothes that belonged to you. he settled on a sweater and jeans. 

“trust you..? of course i do.. i just don't, john.. what's happening?” you asked, almost with hurt in your voice, a conviction of what was about to occur. 

he gently walked back over, mumbling a quiet ‘arms up’ as he slipped your nightgown off, putting a sweater on you, and passing you jeans to put on. 

“it’s just a precaution baby. don't want to scare you, okay? we’re just going on a trip for a little bit, okay?” he said calmly as you zipped up your jeans and slipped on converse. you swallowed thickly as he put a baseball cap on your head.

“an incognito sort of trip?” you said with disappointment, realising all too well what this trip meant. “where? you know i panic when i fly, i can't get on a plane, john.” he kissed your forehead softly, washing away any doubt. 

“there are eyes and ears everywhere, baby, we have to be quiet about this, just have some faith in me, i wouldn't purposefully put you in a dangerous situation, yeah?” he walked out, sliding her fraudulent id into her pocket. it was like a whole double life he lived. she had no idea he had these made, did he have fake passports too? emergency cash stashed somewhere? you followed him like a lost dog as he picked up your suitcases. 

“we aren't coming back here, are we? to this apartment?” you asked in a flat tone, one of hurt and despair. he gently shook his head, giving you a solemn smile. you disappeared into the kitchen, dumping everything in the fridge into the bin. 

“honey? what are you doing? baby- i.. we have to go, now.” you looked up at him, rushing to shove perishable items into the bin. 

“i dont want to leave the apartment in disarray, someone will realise and come and look, and i dont want the owners of the building stumbling across rotten food. its the polite thing to do.” you said, mindlessly stepping into action. 

“very polite. clever girl. we dont have time for that though, baby. come on. need you to listen to me and focus.” he held out a hand which you begrudgingly took. 

you suddenly yanked away, running back into your closet, to which he sighed pinching his nose. 

“baby. i won't tell you again,” he said, short. pointedly. you reassured you would only be a minute, running back out with your wedding garter in hand, shoving it into your suitcase. wedding albums, dresses, suits would all sit here and haunt your empty apartment. 

you needed to take something with you. he noticed what you did and looked down at you like you had punched him in the gut, pained, hurt. he gently cupped the back of your head, bringing you forward to press a pained kiss to your forehead as he cursed under his breath.

“im so sorry sweet girl. i just need to keep you safe, you understand that, don't you?” you gave him a brief nod, a faraway look in your eyes. 

he led you out into the hallway, and then ushered you into the elevator as he took a phone call. he spoke in tongues, well, that was what it sounded like to you. codewords and a whole different language. something eastern european you guessed. you perched a seat on top of your suitcase, as he spoke. he looked over to you and continued speaking, reaching down to pick up his suitcase, phone held to his ear by his shoulder as he pulled your suitcase along with you sitting on top of it. he hung up the phone. down another hallway. suddenly you were in the apartment building's garage. he led you to a black suv. you looked at him confused. 

“you drive an aston martin, and this isnt my kia sport.” 

“no, it isn't your kia sport. get in, honey, come on.” you sighed, still so many unanswered questions as he ushered you in, doing up your seatbelt. 

“i didn't know you were bilingual,” you said, looking down at your converse, chewing your lip. you didn't know what to say, too many things to ask. 

“what language was that?” 

“ukranian.” he spoke softly, driving you through the city, he passed you a bottle of water that was in the car. “drink, you need to stay hydrated.” 

“john im scared, i don't understand any of this and i need to call my dad, tell him what's happe-” he gave you a knowing look. sighing softly, holding out his hand for your phone. 

your furrowed your eyebrows, but trusted him. passing him the phone. he dropped it onto the floor of his car and stomped the foot that wasnt on the accelerator onto your phone, smashing it. you let out a loud gasp of shock, confusion. he had a stone cold face as he rolled down the window and threw it out of the car. 

“john!” you choked out, in disbelief. 

“don't fight me on this sweetheart. i need you to listen to me and do what i say, okay? im trying to keep you safe, and that isn't going to work if you have your phone on you. you cant be traceable.” you sat there, realising the weight of his words. 

“i asked you to drink, baby. please.” you scoffed, a little attitude now. you wanted to throw the water in his face or tell him to shove it up his ass. he was being vague again. not answering your questions, ordering you around. but you conceded and drank, he watched you out of the corner of his eye. 

you sipped, thinking about how much your family would worry when you didnt answer their calls, would they file a missing persons report? i mean, they didnt know what john.. truly did. oh god this was going to be messy. you gulped down the water, curled away from him. was it petty? sure. but you wanted to know you weren't happy with him. 

you sighed sipping the water and suddenly the bottle slipped from your hand, sloshing onto your shoes and dribbling down your lips as you tilted your head almost in slow motion, realising what had happened. john didn't react. why wouldn't he react? oh… oh.

“john, i feel dizzy n’ fuzzy or something.. i dont-” you slurred out, not recognising your voice, you sat confused as your head lolled back into your seat and you slipped into unconsciousness. 

fuck,  john swore under his breath. the guilt was going to eat at him alive. he needed to get you on a plane, a private unlisted one of course, far away and off the grid. but he knew he would have to drag you on kicking and screaming, your phobia of flying would ensure that. that would be loud, and messy. next best solution? 

mildly drug the love of your life to make the transition smoother. god you would never forgive him for this, but it’s something he was doing for you, he tried to convince himself.

the unmarked suv pulled up to an open field, somewhere in japan. an undisclosed location. there was a plane under a huge tarp waiting, he pulled the tarp of the smaller plane, it was only built for two. he never mentioned he could fly a plane, or that he had fake passports made up, or that he spoke multiple languages and had various safehouses built.. nothing of the sort. but why would he want to worry your precious mind? there was nothing he hated more than seeing the look of fear on your face. 

he shoved the luggage in and sighed, cursing again as he slung you over his shoulder, walking up the two steps to the plane, sitting you down and strapping you in. tears welled in his eyes at the sight of you sitting there, looking so vulnerable. he gently pulled your head up to slip on the headphones and closed the plane door. as he strapped in, the plane roared to life and suddenly the two of you were in the air. 

he landed the plane somewhere in sweden. a field. where he of course, had another unmarked suv waiting. he killed the engiene, swallowing his guilt as he slid your headset off and scooped you back up, wiping a small line of drool from the corner of your mouth, your jaw had gone slack. 

you stirred slowly, words slow to come out of your mouth, still a little slurred as he drove around sweden. something garbled and entangled, adjacent to ‘john?’. he clenched his jaw, inhaling softly before deciding to pull over, if you slapped him, it would probably be best if the car was stationary. 

he turned to look at your sweet face. waiting for you to speak. you winced softly, your head aching, limbs like jelly. groggy. 

“you..- did you?” you mumbled out with bite. you had pieced it together as you passed out. he didnt react, because he was expecting you to fall unconscious, because he have you water he had previously drugged. 

“i had to get you on a plane. without you pulling my hair or screaming.” he said calmly, staring straight forward. 

“i might just fucking kill you, actually, ive decided.. im your wife!” you yelled, and he flinched. “you deserve this, john” - he spoke to himself in his mind. 

“my darling girl, i know. i know..” he winced as you continued your rant. 

“you fucking drugged me! with what? what was it? some fucked up sedative im sure you have lying around in our apartment. oh! im sorry, our old apartment. i cant do this. where the fuck are we? im going back home.”

“cant tell you the drug. it’s something from somewhere, we can call it that. we’re in sweden, i have a safe house being set up but we need to stay in a hotel tonight.”

“oh! fantastic, we’re in fucking sweden and my husband practically used a date rape drug to knock me out.”

“honey please dont ever use the word ‘rape’ and ‘my husband’ in a sentence together, ever again. clear?” he said sternly looking at you.

you sighed softly. “im sorry- i didnt it mean it like that. but im still fucking seething with you.” he turned the car back on, turning back onto the road. 

“which is entirely fair. you can slap me when we get to the hotel, alright baby? i just need to get you somewhere while we wait for the safehouse.” he said softly. 

you grumbled something out but relented. “im not going to slap you, you’d somehow get off on that.” you blurted out and he chuffed under his breath, knowing that would be true. 

you arrived in a hotel, a fancy one at that, he spoke to the front desk. luggage at his side. oh great, he speaks swedish too. you glared at him as he spoke. he walked you to the elevator. 

“honey?” you said with a deceiving smile and anger in your voice. 

“yes dearest?” he responded with equal sarcasm.

“next time i comment on the fact you’re bilingual, maybe correct me and say trilingual.” 

“polygot actually, 8 languages.” 

you turned your head to look up at him, and yell. but the elevator doors dinged and opened, revealing a sweet looking couple. you bit your tongue and he stepped aside letting the couple out. he had the nerve to strike up a conversation with them as you looked at the ground, no idea what was being said. 

“åh vilket underbart par!” the woman cooed softly, nudging her husband who agreed smiling gently. 

“ah tack så mycket, det här är min underbara fru. kul att träffa er båda, men vi måste komma till vårt rum. önskar dig lycka till!” john spoke and your eyes widened softly at the accuracy of the accent, he dragged you into the elevator. 

“i love you. i love you so much. please realise im doing this for you. to protect you.” he said, holding your cheeks softly in his palms as the elevator rode up to your floor. 

“i love you too. im just confused, and scared.. i wouldnt have gotten on a plane otherwise, im still peeved you did that though.” he nodded, kissing your forehead.

“i know baby, how about i run you a bath and we can order some champagne and talk? would that be alright?” you nodded softly as he walked you to your hotel room. it was lovely, luxurious even. he ran the bath and you stripped, slipping in and sighing in bliss, closing your eyes. 

you heard him speak on the hotel phone, probably ordering champagne, and he checked the hotel room, paranoid. the champagne never came, and so he sighed, poking his head into the bathroom, looking at you in absolute awe. you turned your head looking towards him.

“im just going to run down to see what’s taking so long, okay baby? i will be right back, two minutes at most.” you nodded softly. 

“that’s okay. ill be here… and john?”

“hm?”

“i love you.” he smiled walking over to kiss you delicately, looking into your eyes.

“i love you too. two minutes, time me.” he murmured before disappearing. 

two minutes later, almost exactly - if you had bothered to time it, you heard the door click. you smiled to yourself, closing your eyes softly as you relaxed in the bath, bubbles covering you. you heard the footsteps approach the door. 

“john? dont bother with the glasses, just come here.” you called out, assuming he was going into the hotel room to collect the glasses. he never responded. he always responded to you. 

“john?” you called out, voice wavering. it’s not like you could call him. but surely it was him. you sighed, stepping out, wrapping a towel around your body. soap suds rolling down your chest as you padded out into the bedroom part of the hotel room. he was nowhere to be seen. 

“john? baby?” you mumbled softly. it all happened so fast.

you had no time to react as a hand clamped over your mouth from behind. another grabbing your waist, hand around your towel. your short towel. you kicked, screaming, muffled behind the hand. trying to kick out the feet from behind you. you halted, inhaling shakily when you felt something cold press to the side of your head. this wasn't john. 

likes, reblogs and comments are so so so incredibly appreciated.

i love you!

[jjonqseob]

spicy dating mingi headcannons

pairing: bf!mingi & f!reader

genre: smut

tws: this is pure smut (i'm too lazy to name everything)

author's note: i'm so, sooo sorry for the wait. also, i got a little bit too carried away with this one... but i hope this is what you were hoping for, anon! btw, all this came out of my head, i'm so sorry i just love this man so fucking much. and as always, ignore if there are any grammatical errors or i might die fr. eng is not my first language. MDNI!!!

i think every time would be like the first, he'd say something like "stop laughing! you're making me even more nervous!" because despite being a couple for so long, he always gets nervous at first, but then... yeah…

he's a damn switch (u can't change my mind ab this). do you want to top him? of course. do you want him to top you? of course. but he would enjoy being a subby more... although he might never admit it.

it's incredible how easily he gets turned on and fucking hard. did you kiss him on the neck? he's already getting a damn boner, and don't even get me started when you sit on his lap. it might be a tender moment, but if you move, even just a little bit, you'd feel a bulge underneath you.

he LOVES you touching him. your hands feel so good, no matter the context. he just loves how your little hands feel on him. are you walking hand in hand? are your hands in his hair while you kiss him? you're sitting on the couch, and you let him lie on your lap? he just loves your touch and having you close.

i also feel like he'd always be open to trying new things with you, both because he loves you and out of simple curiosity. besides, who knows? maybe he'll discover something new he likes.

dirty talk. he's SO into that it's embarrassing. If you're on your knees in front of him, looking at him with those big, pleading eyes, he won't be able to help but say, "open up. let's see how much can fit today that pretty mouth of yours." if he's eating your pussy, he won't stop saying how delicious you taste, how beautiful all the cute sounds are that come out of your lips while his tongue works rigorously on your needy cunt. and if he's fucking you, my god, he'd never keep quiet, he'd always point out how good it feels like your insides squeeze his cock with every thrust, how wet you always are for him, how well you take every inch like the good, pretty good girl you are.

this man moans a lot. don't ask me why, but i know. it you give him a short, little kiss, he'll let out a small moan. if you pull his hair while you're kissing? yes, a moan. and don't even talk about when he eats your pussy. he'd moan more than you.

and the last point brings me to this next point, we all know mingi is a pussy eater, i even feel like it's kind of obvious (he told me himself cause we're besties, duh) he just loves watching you squirm when he uses his mouth on you, you squeezing his head with your legs, the way you pull his hair, burying his face even more between your legs, the way you cum in his mouth, the mess you made on his face… and of course he would swallow everything.

this man is SOOOO into recording or taking pics of both of you while: you jerking him off, you give him a blowjob, you ride him, and recording himself while he eats you out? he's definitely gonna jerk off with that damn video while he's on tour (*cof, cof* link…)

he's so needy… but like, always. i feel like sometimes he wouldn't even notice. like when he rubs his morning boner against your ass while he's half asleep, or when a simple kiss turns into a shower of moans (obviously from him), he just enjoys it too much, but can you blame him? he's just so in love, and he loves you so much, and you turn him on so damn easily.

slaps. yeah… but he likes to receive them, and if you're riding him? good lord, do you want to kill him? you, riding him so well while he looks at you with that silly, lovelorn, aroused expression before feeling a soft, warm hand hit his cheek, followed by your lips against his... one day, you'll kill him. ALSO, maybe he's also into choking… receiving and giving, but more than receiving cause he's a damn freak.

loves LOVES watching his cock slide into your pussy, how you take every inch so well, how your ass bounces with every thrust, he could cum just watching you.

he's… quite big, and he knows it, and when he sees how your eyes get watery from trying to take his cock completely down your throat it makes him feel dizzy, you just drive him crazy in the best way possible.

he likes creampies. i mean, watching your pussy drip with his cum just makes him want to fuck you until you're completely filled, but something about cumming all over your ass cheeks just makes him... tingle. your ass was already perfect, bouncing and colliding against him with every thrust, and now it's painted white because of him? you really want him to shove your face into the mattress again and fuck you doggy style until you're shaking, don't you?

one word, mirrors. we all know that mingi loves watching himself, but watching himself fuck you from behind? watching every expression you make, how your tits bounce with every thrust, how you hold on to the sink, trying to stay standing, and he can only see that if he looks in the mirror, but when he looks down, yeah, your cute, perfect ass bouncing as his cock slides inside you. and if it so happens that you both end up in a motel, he'd make sure you have one of those rooms that have mirrors on the ceiling, on the sides, everywhere, he just loves to see himself, and what he loves more than seeing himself, is seeing you.

and he's the king of aftercare, no matter if he was rough with you, or if you were rough with him, mingi will always ask you how it was, if he did well, if you felt good, and then he would clean you up with all the love in the world, or even carry you to the bathroom for a relaxing bath together, and of course he would offer to soap your back, but his hands would always go... elsewhere.

[winterlico]

PARADISE AT THE DOORSTEP — SJY

ᯓ★ pairing : roommates!Jake x fem!reader / fluff , makeout ᝰ.ᐟ

2.393 ｡ living with Jake was supposed to be easy—falling for him wasn’t.

feedbacks 𖹭 reblogs / O2 edition

You were never the type to believe in fairytales.

Not that you were against love—love was fine. Cute, even. The idea of it was nice, but it was just that—an idea. Something that lived in romance novels or those cheesy Netflix dramas that your roommate, Jake, would pretend not to enjoy watching with you.

Jake, your incredibly handsome, annoyingly charming, sometimes-too-loud-for-the-morning roommate, who also happened to be your best friend.

It wasn’t supposed to be complicated. When you first agreed to move in with him, it was purely out of convenience. You both needed a place, the rent was cheap, and despite your friends' raised eyebrows, you assured them that there was nothing romantic about the arrangement.

Then Jake started doing things that made your heart stutter. Like making you coffee just the way you liked it without you even asking. Or throwing an arm around your shoulders when you both walked home late at night. Or—worst of all—flashing that infuriatingly soft smile when he caught you staring at him.

And now, here you were, standing at the top of the stairs, nervous beyond belief because Jake Sim, your roommate and best friend, had asked you out on a date.

A real one. With flowers and everything.

You weren’t sure what possessed him to do it. Maybe it was the way your fingers brushed too often when you reached for the TV remote. Or how you two had started talking about “your future dog” as if you were already a married couple picking out a golden retriever puppy.

But last night, as he leaned against the kitchen counter, twirling his car keys between his fingers, he looked at you and said, “Let’s go on a date.”

You had laughed at first, thinking he was joking, but when he tilted his head, waiting for your reaction, you realized he was serious.

So now, you stood at the top of the stairs, heart racing, as you saw Jake through the window. He had actually driven all the way from town just to pick you up. He wasn’t just waiting—he was leaning against his car, hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet like he was nervous.

Jake Sim. Nervous.

That was a sight to behold.

Taking a deep breath, you walked down the stairs. Your dress, a soft ivory piece with delicate sheer sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, flowed lightly with each step, the sunlight filtering through the fabric as if it were made of something ethereal. The bodice fit snugly, accentuating your shape in a way that made you feel elegant yet effortlessly comfortable. Your dark hair cascaded over your shoulders, and you could feel the warmth of Jake’s gaze trailing over every detail of your appearance.

And that’s when you noticed it—the way he was looking at you.

Like you were something unreal.

His eyes followed your every step, and he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

He looked incredible too. Jake had dressed simply but impeccably—an off-white knit sweater that hugged his frame in all the right places, tucked into beige trousers that fell just the right amount of loose. His black curls were slightly tousled from the wind, and his sunglasses hung casually from the collar of his sweater. Effortlessly stylish, effortlessly him.

When you reached the bottom, he grinned. “Wow.”

You raised a brow, trying not to let your knees give out. “Wow?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look… really, really good.”

You smirked, playing it cool even though your insides were a mess. “So do you.”

“Yeah?” He took a step closer, and suddenly, the world felt a little too small. “Good enough to be your date?”

“Mm.” You pretended to think. “I don’t know, Jake. I might need some convincing.”

His grin widened before he reached into his backseat, pulling out a bouquet of flowers.

Your eyes softened. “You actually brought flowers?”

“I told you it was a real date.”

You took them from his hands, the scent of roses and lilacs filling the air. “Alright, Sim. You’re off to a good start.”

Jake opened the car door for you, dramatically bowing as you got in. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

The restaurant was warm and intimate, nestled into a cozy corner of town you’d never been to before. String lights draped across the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the wooden tables, and soft jazz hummed from the speakers, blending seamlessly into the chatter of couples and friends enjoying their meals.

Jake pulled out your chair for you, the gesture sending a pleasant warmth through your chest.

“Look at you, being all gentlemanly,” you teased as you took your seat.

He smirked, settling in across from you. “Hey, I’m trying to make a good impression here.”

“As if you haven’t already.”

Jake’s lips parted slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to say that. A hint of color crept up his neck, and for a brief moment, he was quiet. Then he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he reached for his glass of water. “You always know how to get to me.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly, as it always did. Between bites of food, you talked about everything and nothing—the latest movies, the barista at the café who always spelled his name wrong, the time he accidentally locked himself out of the apartment and had to bribe the neighbor’s kid with candy to let him use their phone.

But beneath the laughter, there was something else. Something unspoken yet tangible in the way his fingers toyed with the edge of the tablecloth, in the way your knees brushed under the table and neither of you moved away.

As the night deepened, Jake leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. “You know,” he mused, voice softer now, “I think I knew.”

You tilted your head. “Knew what?”

“That this would happen.” He exhaled, eyes flickering over your face like he was committing it to memory. “That I’d fall for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The air between you tightened, charged with something undeniable.

“Jake—”

“I don’t need an answer now,” he interrupted gently, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. “Just… let me do this right.”

And as he reached across the table, lacing his fingers through yours, you realized he already was.

After dinner, Jake suggested a walk through the park, and you agreed without hesitation. The evening air was crisp but pleasant, and the glow of street lamps gave the park an almost dreamlike quality. The two of you strolled side by side, hands occasionally brushing, until Jake abruptly stopped.

"Hold on," he said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Stay right there."

You raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a picture of you," he said with a grin. "You look too good tonight not to have proof."

You rolled your eyes, laughing, but still, you let him. He took a few steps back, angling his phone just right. "Alright, one more," he muttered, tilting his head. "Perfect."

You crossed your arms. "Do I get to see it?"

He tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Maybe later."

You playfully swatted at him, and he chuckled, dodging your hand before taking yours in his own as he led you forward once more.

As you continued walking, the distant sound of music filled the air. A small street band had set up near the park’s fountain, their instruments blending into a lively melody. Couples and passersby had gathered around, some swaying to the rhythm, others simply enjoying the performance.

Jake turned to you, eyes glinting mischievously. "Dance with me?"

You blinked. "Here? In front of everyone?"

"Why not?" He was already pulling you toward the open space.

Laughing, you let him, and soon the two of you were twirling between the musicians and the crowd. Your dress fanned out gracefully with each movement, the fabric catching the light as it floated around you. The soft ivory layers swirled like petals in the wind, brushing against Jake as he spun you effortlessly.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you—your smile, your laughter, the way your hair cascaded down your back, catching the glow of the streetlights. It was as if he was trying to capture this moment forever, to etch it into his memory so he would never forget the sight of you like this.

Jake spun you around, making you giggle, and as he pulled you back into his arms, his grip lingered, warm and steady. He watched you intently, as if he was memorizing the way your breath hitched, the way your eyes sparkled beneath the city lights. And in that fleeting moment, he knew—this wasn’t just a dance, it was something more.

You felt it too, the way his fingers brushed against the small of your back, grounding you in a way that sent a pleasant shiver up your spine. The music wrapped around the both of you, and for a second, the world faded, leaving only the two of you in the middle of it all.

As if catching the contagious energy, more people joined in—some dancing in pairs, others moving on their own, completely immersed in the moment. The night air buzzed with joy, and when the song ended, the entire gathering erupted into cheers and claps.

You were breathless, your chest rising and falling as Jake grinned at you. "That was fun."

"You’re insane," you murmured, still smiling. "But yeah, it was."

A few steps later, Jake paused at a small vendor stand lined with trinkets and accessories. He browsed through the selection before picking up a delicate hairpin with a small silver flower.

"Here," he said, stepping closer. "Hold still."

You barely had time to react before he was tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and securing the pin in place. His fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, and when he finally pulled back, he studied you with a soft smile.

"Perfect," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart did a little flip, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you. "If this is your way of distracting me from the fact that you still haven't shown me that picture, it's not working."

Jake laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. One thing at a time."

After he carefully placed it in your hair, you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward a small boutique nearby. "Come on, it's my turn now."

Jake raised an eyebrow but followed without protest, watching as you scanned the shelves thoughtfully. Your eyes landed on a thin silver necklace, simple but elegant—something that would suit him perfectly.

"Here," you said, picking it up. "Hold still."

Jake blinked in surprise as you moved closer, your fingers brushing against his neck as you clasped the necklace around him. Realizing he was too tall, you huffed in frustration.

Jake chuckled, bending down slightly to give you better access. "Didn't think this through, did you?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight back a smile. "Just hold still, Sim."

He grinned but obeyed, watching you intently as your fingers worked at the clasp, the warmth of his skin lingering against your fingertips. He glanced down, touching the cool metal resting against his skin.

"Looks good on you," you murmured, stepping back to admire it.

Hand in hand, you finally made your way toward the cozy restaurant Jake had chosen for the evening, the gentle hum of conversation and soft jazz music inviting you inside.

The walk back home was quieter, filled with unspoken words and stolen glances. At your doorstep, Jake turned to you, eyes searching.

You exhaled softly, then took a step forward, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “Jake, I think I knew too.”

His breath hitched, his eyes searching yours as he tried to grasp the weight of your words.

His breath hitched. “Yeah?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. Then, just like he had done earlier, Jake reached up and gently brushed a strand of your hair away from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin softly. The simple act made your breath hitch, and for a moment, you could only stare at him.

Swallowing, you whispered, "You look really good tonight, by the way." Your voice was softer now, more vulnerable.

You nodded, fingers reaching up to brush his cheek. “I think I was just scared to admit it.”

Jake let out a soft chuckle, leaning into your touch. “So… what now?”

Smiling, you whispered, “Let’s find out together.”

And then, as if it had been inevitable all along, you kissed him.

The moment your lips met, it was like the world around you stilled. Jake’s breath hitched slightly before he melted into you, his hands finding their place on your waist, pulling you just a little closer. The kiss was soft at first, gentle and exploring, as if both of you were trying to memorize the feel of each other.

Your fingers curled against his shoulder, holding onto him as your heart pounded. The night air wrapped around you, but his warmth was all you felt. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough for it to steal your breath, yet not enough to rush—just slow, deliberate, like neither of you wanted this moment to end.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other’s, both of you catching your breath. Jake let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I’ve been waiting for the right moment to do that."

You smiled, eyes still half-lidded from the kiss. "Maybe... I've been waiting for it too."

And then, just before you could step back, he leaned in again, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips, as if sealing the moment between just the two of you.

[wosospacegirl]

Snapping, unintentionally - Aggie Beever-Jones

Summary: Y/n’s cranky, and Aggie's frustrated

Word count: 2.1k

a/n: request <3

MASTERLIST

..

Some would think a couple who played for rival teams would fight about football–about training, about the FIFA calendar, or about league scheduling.

But not Aggie and Y/n.

Up until this point in their relationship, they had never fought about anything football-related. Not even once.

Their first fight was actually because of something far more common–to both players and non-players.

Y/n woke up ridiculously early with cramps that made her whole body ache. Her lower stomach throbbed, her back was sore, her head was pounding–and worst of all, it was supposed to be her and Aggie’s day off.

A rare, precious day they could’ve slept in, maybe stayed in bed until noon, done nothing.

But no. Her uterus had other plans.

Y/n was unable to fall back asleep–she tried, so she forced herself. She even made breakfast for them, mostly to distract herself from the pain. By the time she placed the plates on the table, Aggie stumbled out of the bedroom, still half-asleep, eyes barely open.

She sat across from Y/n, grabbed a piece of toast, and mumbled, “Mornin’, love.”

Y/n blinked at her. “Do you have to chew like that?”

Aggie paused, confused. “I’m… eating toast?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, stood up without a word, grabbed her plate, and went to eat alone in the kitchen.

Aggie stayed at the table, chewing slowly, already bracing for what kind of day this was going to be.

..

Aggie had a lot of great qualities. She was confident, charming, charismatic, hard-working, incredibly caring, and humble, of course.

But unfortunately, one thing she did not have was the patience to deal with unexplained moods.

That’s why she and Y/n worked so well. They were chill. They talked things out. There was no miscommunication, no over-the-top drama, no emotional spirals. 

They were low-maintenance, just… easy.

Except once a month.

For some reason unknown to Aggie, Y/n turned into the complete opposite of herself when she was on her period.

Dramatic. Irritable. Snappy at everything.

She also had a particular problem: she refused to say she was on her period. Ever.

Which drove Aggie insane.

Aggie didn’t want a whole announcement, just a little heads up.

Because what was the point of being in a relationship if not to just say things like, “Hey, my uterus is trying to kill me, please tread carefully today”?

After the toast incident, Aggie gathered that Y/n might want some space. 

So she laced up her trainers, left her sulking girlfriend behind, and went for a run –even picked up groceries on the way back, including Y/n’s favourite chocolate and snacks, because despite the confusion, she did care and loved the girl very much.

When she got home, Y/n was curled up on the sofa, the heating pad sitting across her stomach, and a pout and frown fighting on her face.

Aggie felt immediately guilty for being annoyed earlier. She looked soft now, almost delicate.

She walked over and gently kissed her cheek–Y/n acted like she didn’t even feel it, though. 

“Do you want some medicine?” Aggie asked.

Y/n shook her head without looking at her.

“Alright,” Aggie said, digging into the grocery bag and pulling out the snacks she bought, handing them over. “Got you some stuff.”

Y/n looked at the bag. “What is this?”

“Just some snacks I thought you’d want,” Aggie said, her tone cautious.

Aggie went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit from her run, and when she came back, the bag was on the floor, tossed dramatically far from the couch.

“You’re not gonna eat anything?” Aggie asked, confused, picking up the bag and putting it on the coffee table.

“No, Agnes. Do you see my face? I have pimples everywhere!” she snapped, gesturing vaguely at her forehead. “Why would you give me chocolate?”

Aggie blinked, opening and closing her mouth. She wasn’t sure what she should say. 

“Okay…just don’t eat it then, love,” She said, her voice unsure. 

Y/n sat up slightly, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. 

“You didn’t even invite me to run with you.”

Aggie stared at her. 

“You’re joking, right? You’ve been snapping at me for everything. You got mad this morning because I brushed my teeth and got the sink wet. It’s a sink! It’s supposed to get wet!”

Y/n turned away with a huff.

Aggie flopped down at the other end of the couch. “I’m trying here, babe.”

"You’re doing it wrong,” Y/n said, her voice low but dripping with irritation, as she stormed off toward the other room.

Aggie stared at Y/n's figure.  Her chest tightened with a mixture of frustration and confusion. She knew Y/n could get snappy in time like this, but honestly, it was so exhausting.

She ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a long sigh. 

She’d tried to be thoughtful, had bought the snacks and given her space–what else could she do? What was wrong with just saying what she wanted or needed?

..

Y/n lay curled up on her side, facing the wall. Her room was dim–just the soft light coming through the curtains–and quiet, except for the occasional creak of the bed frame when she shifted. 

One of her hands was resting on her lower stomach, where the dull ache of cramps lingered. Not sharp anymore, just persistent.

More than anything, she was just… off. Tired. Not tired like sleepy, but tired of herself. 

She’d been short all day, saying things with more bite than she meant to, snapping without reason, huffing over small things. And she knew it. She knew she was being annoying. She just couldn’t seem to stop.

The door creaked open behind her.

Y/n didn’t turn. She already knew who it was by the way the door opened halfway, and then hesitated.

“You’ve been grumpy all day,” Aggie said, as if it were a statement. Not accusing. Just matter-of-factly.

Y/n exhaled through her nose, slow and silent. “Yeah. I know.”

There was a pause.

Aggie stepped into the room, but didn’t come all the way to the bed. “Then why are you acting like I’m the one who did something wrong?”

Y/n blinked at the wall. “I’m not. I’m just… not in the mood,” she said, her voice mumbly.

Aggie let out a soft scoff. “You’ve been in this mood since you woke up.”

Y/n didn’t answer.

Aggie leaned against the dresser. Her arms were crossed, but it wasn’t in a confrontational way. “I know you don’t feel good, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything either.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” Y/n said quietly. “I’m just… tired. And uncomfortable. And everything’s annoying. Including me.”

Aggie sighed. “Then say that. Don’t just huff at me every time that I…breathe.”

Y/n’s lips pressed together, her throat tightening a little. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I don’t have it in me to be nice right now.”

Aggie didn’t say anything right away. The silence stretched, not heavy, but enough to make Y/n shift uncomfortably under the blanket.

Finally, Aggie spoke again, a little softer. “I’m not asking you to be nice. I’m just asking you not to treat me like I’m the problem.”

Y/n didn’t move. She wanted to say she wasn’t, that Aggie wasn’t the problem. But she was too tired, and the words felt like they’d come out wrong again. She stayed quiet.

Aggie stood there for a few seconds longer. Then she pushed off the dresser.

“Alright,” she said, a little flat again. “I’m going to the gym.”

Y/n wanted to stop her. To say something like ‘please stay’ or even just ‘I’m sorry.’ But the lump in her throat was thick and stubborn, and the frustration in her chest still hadn’t settled. 

She didn’t want a fight, but she also didn’t want to pretend everything was fine when she was one wrong word away from crying over absolutely nothing.

The door clicked shut behind Aggie.

And even though she’d wanted to be left alone a minute ago, now that she was, the room suddenly felt colder.

..

Aggie walked into the Chelsea training centre, the familiar scent of sweat filling the air. She had been looking forward to this session, well, at least ever since she and Y/n had their disagreement.

She needed to clear her mind, work out the frustration she'd been carrying since the toast incident.

As she laced up her sneakers, guilt began growing on her, little by little.

The tension, the silence. It all made her feel like she was the one in the wrong. Aggie jogged out onto the field, the last sun rays of the day casting long shadows across the grass as she thought about how she should have been more patient.

She continued her warm-ups, pushing herself through the drills, but the thoughts kept flooding in. She wanted some time to focus on herself, but it wasn’t working...all she could think about was Y/N."

About how Y/n was always a sweetheart to her when she was sick, or how Y/n never complained when Aggie was cranky after losing a game–Y/N always stuck around, even when Aggie didn’t do the same for her

She kept running, harder now, her legs burning with the intensity. Each step forced her to reckon with the fact that she hadn’t been the best girlfriend she could be. 

She knew Y/n was in pain, that it wasn’t easy for her to talk about because she also didn’t understand why she was acting that way, and yet Aggie made it worse by being…impatient, insensitive.

..

Aggie came back to their apartment, sweat still dripping down her neck.

As she stepped inside, she noticed that Y/n was nowhere to be seen, so she probably hadn't left the bed since their last “fight”, if you could even call that a fight..

Aggie walked further into the apartment, throwing her gym bag on the floor and taking her shoes off. She got to the door of their bedroom and opened the door slowly.

Yn was lying on her side on the bed, her face scrunched up in the way it always did when she was upset.

Carefully, Aggie made her way over. 

She knelt next to the bed, right by Y/n’s side and leaned in and kissed Y/n’s forehead softly. “Hi, lovie,” she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity. “I’m sorry I was so rude earlier.”

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, her lashes wet, as if she was crying before she fell asleep. She blinked up at Aggie, her face still in that familiar pout, but the look in her eyes was full of regret. 

“I’m the one who’s sorry ”, Y/n said, her voice thick with emotion. “I was a bitch.”

“No, baby, you weren’t,” Aggie said softly, her thumb brushing over Y/n’s cheek. “It’s okay, you’re just not feeling like yourself right now. We all have those days.”

Y/n’s lips quivered slightly, and she sniffled. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

Was Y/n being dramatic? Yes. But it was okay because she was almost bleeding to death,

Aggie laughed affectionately, kissing  Y/n’s forehead again. “Hate you? Never. You’re my girl.”

Aggie gently pulled Y/n into her lap, feeling the weight of the argument lift slowly as Y/n rested her head against her chest. The tension in the room started to dissipate, replaced by the comforting warmth of their embrace.

“You know,” Aggie said softly, running her fingers through Y/n’s hair, “we should’ve made an agreement. A ‘period protocol’ or something.”

Y/n tilted her head back, raising an eyebrow. “A period protocol? What does that even mean?”

Aggie smirked, “Like, whenever you feel your period is coming, you tell me, and I’ll be extra patient. You won’t have to snap at me, and I won’t get all frustrated.”

Y/n sighed, but nodded. “Yeah, that actually makes sense. I just have a hard time admitting when I’m being…irrational.”

Aggie smiled warmly. “It’s not irrational, love. You just need a little more care when things get rough. All I ask is that you tell me what you need, and I’ll try my best.”

There was a long pause before Y/n mumbled, “I’m sorry for screaming at you earlier, when you were making lunch.”

Aggie blinked at her, clearly confused. "You didn’t scream at me when I was making lunch, though?"

Y/n looked up at her, wide-eyed. "Oh… uh… maybe it was all in my head then?"

Aggie shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips as she kissed Y/n’s cheeks. “Grumpy.”

..

A/n: helloo, hope you guys enjoyed it!! <3

Masterlist

[ferrarifinnick]

A TO Z! | CHO SANGWOO, SQUID GAME (ALPHABET HEADCANONS)

everything you need to know about cho sangwoo...

warnings: nsfw (obvs), sexual discussion, sub/dom, mental health, sex, masturbation, age play, shame, ejaculation and cum discussion, protected and unprotected sex, daddy kink, genitalia description, foreplay, post-sex.

wc: 1.9k

a/n: first time using this format and loving it. breaking through writers block as season 3 is approaching, lets gooo. lmk if you agree! anyway, enjoy! feedback super appreciated for this one. love <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he falls into silence. he might lay there with you, might start pulling his clothes back on. whatever he does will be in silence, the kind that’s full of processing and emotional acceptance.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

sang-woo’s height is one of the features he thinks people find most attractive about him, and it’s what he likes about himself physically, too. he feels protected by it, and knows how to use it against others. but aside from that. he thinks his facial structure is quite handsome.

he’s more interested in his partner’s face than body. it’s what will set you apart from the others, and what he likes looking at of you the most. but if he was pressed for detail, he’d admit your smile was his most favourite feature. he craves drawing it out of you by thoughtful acts of service like making you coffee on tired mornings, or carrying you home if your heels hurt on date nights.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

sang-woo practices control in all aspects of his life, and that applies to sex. he insists on protection via condoms for a long time, but it’s also for ease of clean-up after the act. cum is messy. it gets on the sheets, sticks to the skin. he will indulge in raw sex when he feels like giving into his urges, but it’s rare.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

his height, his build, his cool authority has him slipping into a dominant role in your life with ease. from assuming a position of power over you both domestically and in the bedroom, it’s no surprise that he’s aware of the paternal figure he’s coincidentally moulded himself into for you. so, sometimes, in the heat of the moment, when he’s helping you with budgeting your salary for the month, or when he’s rolling his hips to guide you through an orgasm, sometimes his mind wanders. to places it shouldn’t, but does regardless. to imagining you calling him what he shouldn’t want, looking in his eyes and moaning the three letters he craves. dad.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

like every man, he has needs. despite his self control, he still dabbles in sexual exploits, but only one night stands that start in a bar and end in a stranger’s bed. he knows what he’s doing, is good at it, and gets to put it to use on someone he still expects to see come morning.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

prone bone. he gets to be vulnerable less confrontationally behind the privacy of your back, and can choose how much of himself to give to you. hands can press into the mattress beside you, or they can plant his weight on your back when he feels more desperate to connect. he can close the distance when he wants to. trace his lips over the skin of your neck, or bite down on your shoulder when he reaches his orgasm.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

sex is incredibly serious to him. he isn’t vulnerable with ease, so he relies on you to make him feel respected with the pace he takes things. sex is about shedding the layer of armour he wears like skin, letting his walls down to connect in a way that says everything he can’t outside of the bedroom. that’s not to say he won’t crack a soft smile or smirk when the moment calls for it. an unexpected moan, a twitch of your hips. he sees you reacting to him, and sometimes it’s amusing how much he can make you react to his touch.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

has a regular routine to keep his pubic hair and body hair in order, chest and abdomen included. shaves with cream, warm water, regularly changes to a fresh blade. all his body hair is black like the hair on his head.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s observant, always processing the reactions of your body and ready to adjust to improve your experience. he isn’t one for words, but he’ll guide you through his emotions with soft breaths when you’re on the right track with his body, and growls when you push him closer to the edge. especially if you talk dirty to him. it makes his head go fuzzy.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he’s pretty disciplined. as an adult, he knows that offers temporary relief and usually has him feeling worse afterwards. so he keeps it to a minimum. usually only when you’re out of the house, leaving him alone at home for a rare moment of solitude. he’ll usually go in the shower, lean an arm against the wall in front of him, and finish without a rush, always thinking of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

daddy (and secretly dad) kink, dirty talk, sub/dom dynamics, slow sex while sharing a cigarette or glass of whatever alcohol you were drinking before slipping into bed.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

your shared bed, almost always. but he’s not opposed to slipping into the shower if it feels right, like during a few spare minutes during your morning routine. car sex is reserved for when his self control slips, and he needs to shamefully take you in the middle of a car park at night after some drinks.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he likes letting the sexual tension build. brushing his hips against you when squeezing past in a doorway, towel purposefully hanging low on his hips after a shower. he needs to tension to simmer. he needs the tension to become heated, unspoken, burning. only then will the sex be worth it to him. it all stems from his habit of repressing emotions. this way, he can feel so much more during sex.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything where he loses all control, like being tied up or pegged. it���s not to say he wouldn’t enjoy it if he tried it, but rather he is too afraid of the feeling of being stuck. vulnerable. at the mercy of someone else, even if that person is someone he trusts. he just can’t let himself be in that position.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he finds giving easier than receiving. sinking to his knees, hiding between the heat of your thighs is comforting. the feeling of being accepted so close to your biggest vulnerability, it awakens the emotions pushed deep down inside of him. it makes him feel worthy. to make you feel good feeds his ego, and it’s difficult to get you through to your orgasm without his hand finding his arousal and joining you over the edge.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

dependant on his mood and his mental health. if he feels like he isn't drowning in despair, he takes his time. slow drag of his hand down your spine, arching you into position for him. slow but intense pace, losing himself in the steady rhythm of your bodies. but if he's empty inside, and the aching absence of light and joy is consuming him, he is almost merciless. it's not desperate, it's not lacking control. it's trying to spark life back into him through the one person that brings meaning to his life.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn’t believe in quickies. sex is an emotional experience for him, and he believes taking his time is part of how he can connect with his feelings. he doesn’t rush foreplay, won’t advance to the next stage until it feels right. that goes for both of you, too. he’ll be observant to your reactions,

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's hesitant to try new things. he knows what he likes, and what you like, and routine is something he feels comfortable in. he is more inclined to try something new if he can exercise control over you, as opposed to giving it up.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

no more than two rounds, but prefers one. sex can be initiated on a whim, but it's rare he'll ever let it be over quickly, or else he'd rather not engage in it at all. it's vulnerable for him, and building up slowly makes him feel more at ease.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

no, he won't use any toys on himself. but he will allow you to use them on yourself during sex, like a vibrator, but he does find it distracting. it's harder to feel in the moment, and he'll likely be a little dissociated during and even post-sex. it'll feel like he's being cold, but he's just in his head.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he's reasonable. he won't torture you, or push you too far during sex. foreplay is a little different, though. he'll take his sweet time initiating it. agonisingly slow trail of kisses from your lips to your neck, down your chest, abdomen... will even kiss down the outside of your thighs just to circle back up the inside. but when he gets started on the main event, he's much more forgiving.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

controlled and restrained. he'd rather your sounds drown his little ones out, or else he'll focus too much on himself instead of the moment. but he isn't silent. he'll gasp, grunt, even growl if you let something dirty slip. especially if it's something that calls attention to the age gap.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he feels a lot of shame about being so much older, but it fuels his sex drive like nothing else when you call attention to it. "old man," "sir," "appa," it all gets him feeling so guilty but insatiably turned on. if you bring any of it up during sex, it'll fuel a guilty orgasm, and he'll feel immense shame afterwards. but he'll never resist.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's toned under his clothes, almost religiously grooms himself. he is a touch above average size, around seven inches. but it's his girth that sets him apart. he's blessed and knows it, but even though he'll get a little shy if you say it out loud, he loves it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

low to medium. he's disciplined, isn't controlled by his dick, and appreciates saving sex and masturbation for when he actually wants it. will never jerk off or fuck out of boredom, thinks it's weak and counterproductive to maintaining a healthy relationship with sex.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

never. he'd never admit it, but he gets a little fragile. he needs time to process the emotions unsurfaced, or to sit with shame if he engaged in taboo sex (like ageplay if you had been calling him daddy sexually). he won't cry or get emotional, that's not his process. he needs time to lay there, thoughtful, quiet, maybe smoke a cigarette, and eventually he'll warm up to you again.

i yearn for this man can u tell. like, comment, reblog. love <33

[lottienathive]

right off the bat, nat and lottie are introduced as complete opposites - lottie is rich, sweet, soft-spoken, etc. and nat is poor, extremely brash, and bold. even wearing a skirt and jacket, but in completely different ways. this is an easily understood set-up for their first time in the wilderness. the very first dilemma of the show—the allie situation—is also very representative of this. lottie is unsure on how to approach the situation and doesn’t assert herself (“she kinda sucks, but… i don’t know.”) whereas nat makes her opinion very clear (“that’s because it’s bullshit” / “you know what? fuck this.”) after the crash., nat throws herself onto travis almost immediately following the loss of his father. she immediately sticks up for him when lottie makes a jab (“who died and made him king of snacks?” “his dad, lottie, literally his fucking dad.”) this is already showing us that nat is considered with the individual feelings of people around her, whereas lottie is more focused on the hive mind and likelihood of the group as a whole.

further into their time in the wilderness, both of the girls establish themselves as providers. nat becomes a hunter, providing food and protection since she’s the one who earns the privilege of having the only weapon. on the other hand, lottie is slowly made into a group leader because of the spiritual comfort she provides the girls with. in a desperate time of need, both of them are ready to provide and protect the group, but in completely opposing ways. they aren’t so different, really just two sides of the same selfless, caring coin. this complex rivalry makes much more sense when you look at their childhood individually. we see in season 1 that nat grew up in terrible circumstances, with an abusive alcoholic father and a dismissive mother, she is responsible for making her own way. her father’s death is symbolic of this; although she didn't kill him directly, it was her fault he died. because of this upbringing, nat has heavy walls built around her. she sees the world for what it's been to her: cruel. however, despite this cold shell that her parents caused her to develop, she's incredibly caring all the less. this is especially represented through her relationship with travis. lottie, while she grew up rich, clearly didn't have very loving parents. the first scene we see of her at home is before the crash, and while most of the other characters are being goodbye-hugged by family members, lottie is receiving a bottle of her medication from her maid. at the beginning of season 2, we see that lottie has had some sort of psychic abilities, able to predict a car crash before it happens. instead of taking time to understand her, her parents throw her into therapy and pump her up with medication following the rescue, lottie's parents take no time to process that their daughter has been heavily traumatized, and immediately send her away to a whole different country. the dismissiveness of lottie's parents, similar to nats, affected her in a completely opposite way. instead of building up walls and becoming cold, lottie seeks to use her abilities to give comfort to everyone else around her. while dealing wth similar core traumas, they react to it in very different ways.

despite this, lottie (especially adult timeline) stays prominent as the only person who can comfort nat. after years following the crash of replacing her pain with drugs, sex, etc. it took one week at lottie's camp for her to want to start healing. lottie did that for her. the regression scene shows that no matter how old she is, lottie is still the only person who can bring out the parts of herself that she tries to bury, in both positive and negative ways. the season 2 finale is where everything about their relationship shifts. i don't think enough people process that "the wilderness" is really just, obviously not completely, but in simple terms a manifestation of lottie's inner nature. when you listen to it, it gives you what you want. when lottie decides that nat should be the leader by saying "the wilderness already chose who should lead us," what she's really saying, unconsciously and metaphorically, is that she has noticed nat's resilience and determination to lead as a reflection of her own determination to lead. now...we talk about nat's death scene. happening parallel to the scene where she's crowned leader adult nat is accidently killed during a hunt put together by lottie to give the wilderness its final sacrifice, an exercise intended to help them let go. in her final moments between life and death, nat finds herself in that plane again. in her very final moments of life, what is nats last sight?? young lottie next to her, hand on her heart, telling her that it's going to be okay. as she says, "IT'S not evil, just hungry." this line correlates with what lottie said a few episodes earlier: "just because you don't understand something doesn't mean it's evil." nat and lottie both don't understand each other's ways of dealing with their issues, so they argue and they oppose. in a tragic end to their story, nat's death is documented as a drug overdose and lottie is sent away to a psych ward by her friends. despite everything they went through, the ups and the downs and the healing, lottie and nat will always be the psycho and the druggie. they are similar in this way: they are stuck with these issues and that's all they're seen for by anyone else. but they see each other as more.

you made so many excellent points. great analysis! they really are two sides of the same coin and narrative foils.

"the dismissiveness of lottie's parents, similar to nats, affected her in a completely opposite way. instead of building up walls and becoming cold, lottie seeks to use her abilities to give comfort to everyone else around her. while dealing with similar core traumas, they react to it in very different ways."

this part in particular reminded me of a thought i had the other day. about lottienat and the deer + moose symbolism. it pretty much reflects what you just mentioned. lottie being associated with the deer (a creature considered in many mythologies to be connected to the supernatural and the divine, a creature that prefers to live in herds. just like lottie who doesn't isolate herself by choice. she surrounds herself with people) vs nat being associated with the moose (unlike other deer species moose do not form herds and are solitary animals)

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | sixteen.

—spotify playlist |series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 6.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, the storm is here (literally), a bit of a lillll argument, san comes to the rescue ofc, saurrrr much tension at first.. like the air is THICCCK, coming to resolutions & making up 🥺, kissing/making out, sweet moments, unprotected sex, fingering, slightly nipple play, hella soft missionary, hella soft sex from behind. idk everything is hella sweet and hella soft cause they’re just so in love and missed each other pls let them have this lil tender moment!! 🤍, a small oc x iseul encounter (just because i needed her to at LEAST give iseul some business), sorry if i missed anything - quickly edited!

—on rotation: goin' crazy - natalie

"Babe. Go home?" Eunchae says over the phone while you pack some things up. You were the only one out of your friends who stayed behind to finish up a few things and get ahead before the storm rolled in. The rest of your friends were smart enough to leave, and now, you were stuck on campus until [god knows when] the storm would settle.

"Chae, I literally think I'm stuck here. I didn't leave early enough." You sigh and head towards the window, watching as the rain continues to pour, the wind howling and beating against the glass.

"Why don't you wait it out for a few and then dart out as soon as it stops? I'm sure we'll get a quick break from the storm." 

"I'm scared to drive out in this rain. What if it traps me out on the road?" You groan. "I should've left earlier but I had to take care of some stuff in the lab before the storm came in just in case. I didn't want it to set me back."

"Is the building staying strong? Back up generators and all still pulling through?"

"Yeah, thankfully—" As if you had just jinxed it, the lights suddenly shut off in your studio— the lights in surrounding rooms also going out. The street lights are out.

Everything is dark and cold.

"Oh, fuck. Nevermind." You whine and pretend to cry.

"What, the lights went out?!"

"Yeah. I think the backup generators might've tripped out."

"Girl, get your ass home. Who knows when they'll start investigating and working on that?" 

"I should've left yesterday. I should've just listened to my gut!"

"But no, you had to go and be my 'lil overachiever." The both of you hear your emails ding— the internet in the building going out, leaving you with choppy service. "Oop, there goes the university message about the backup generator getting blown out for residence halls."

"Save me."

"Babe, just wait it out and get outta there. I'm sure it'll be fine when you drive home later, okay? Text me if anything. I can force my stepbrother to come and rescue you if needed."

"No, no. It's fine. I'll be okay."

"Okay, be safe for now. Love you!"

"Love you, too!" You let out another small breath as you sit in front of your half-packed weekender bag. You continue to pack your things, finalizing the last bits of the necessities needed so you can dash out of here the moment the storm calms—

Whenever that is.

You set your bag aside, along with your jacket and shoes before plopping onto your couch to try and get some work done through your phone's hotspot. But, it doesn't last for long when the videos you need to watch won't play and your data won't upload properly. You check the weather to see if there are any gaps in the rain coming soon, but to your luck, there are none.

In fact, it only sounds like the rain will get worse until tomorrow afternoon.

"Fuck." You whine to yourself, feeling scared and alone without your friends around to keep you company. 

Had you listened to your gut and let your work sit for a minute, you wouldn't be in this predicament. 

You try to busy yourself by lighting up some candles, spreading it out within your studio from the kitchen table to your nightstand. You go from trying to take notes under the dim candlelight, to laying in your bed trying to warm up.

Suddenly, a text comes through on your phone. You weren't expecting anything to come through with how shitty and inconsistent the service has been. You grab your phone, assuming it was one of your friends or your mom checking in on you.

You did not think it'd be Choi San.

san: hope you're staying warm and safe, y/n.

Your heart drops and you immediately don't know what to do. Should you respond? Should you continue ignoring him, continue to force yourself to act like San doesn't mean much to you?

Erase that part of your life?

After all these months, he still has the same effect on you. No matter how hard you try to hide it, your feelings for him haven't gone anywhere.

you: trying to. i hope you are too.

He doesn't answer right away, but that's only because he wasn't expecting a response. He was fully convinced you hated him since the last time you spoke, yet that hasn't stopped him from thinking about you every single day. Especially now, when the storm is at its peak. You're alone, and he's alone. He misses you. 

He's pulled out of his thoughts when you follow up with another text, and he almost feels like this could be a window to talk to you and see how you've been doing. He's been itching to talk to you again.

you: do you have power?

san: i do. do you need anything? just saw the university message about part of the residence halls being out of power.

you: um, no. i think i'm okay.

san: you sure? did they say when it'll come back up?

you: no clue.

san: you can hang out here if you want. i'll give you space.

you: i'll think about it. thank you for offering, though.

san: course. let me know. i was actually hoping we could talk at some point.

You pout a bit, setting your phone aside as you try to lean back against your headboard and continue studying. You try to get your mind off of San, believing you can hold out until tomorrow when the rain smoothes over and the storm passes. The longer the power continues to stay off, the colder it gets. The harder the rain and wind get, the more you hate being alone.

What did San need to talk about?

Your curiosity definitely got to the best of you because even though you don't entirely think you're ready for whatever San has up his sleeve, you pick up your phone to text him back anyway. You don't wanna be alone, and even if you don't wanna admit it right now, you'd rather be with him than here.

you: but, it's pretty crazy outside. you'd drive in this?

san: well, yeah. it's tapering off for a bit anyway. do you want me to come?

you: okay.

san: i'll be there in about 15 minutes.

you: pls be careful.

san: i will, love.

You sigh, pinching at your bottom lip to try and understand your feelings right now. Were you excited? Were you nervous? Were you regretting this?

Should you tell him to not leave? Change your mind?

You're so conflicted that it takes up all your time— up until the very moment that San is texting you that he's in his usual spot. A wave of nostalgia washes over you, and obviously, it's too late to turn back now no matter how nervous you are. 

You throw on your huge puffer jacket, throwing on the hood from your hoodie over your head while grabbing your weekender bag, along with your school bag to try and get some work done at San's house. Might as well be productive in a warm place with running hot water, heat and lights.

San is right about the rain; it's a lot lighter than it was earlier, but you know it won't last for long. You hurriedly walk over as the rain continues to fall, swinging his door open and plopping yourself into the passenger's seat— slightly getting the leather wet.

"Hey."

"Hi." You say softly as you settle in, lowering the hood from your face. San feels like his heart is beating out of his chest while he watches you from the side, turning to throw your things in the back before looking at him. "Was it hard driving over?"

"No."

"Hm, okay." You hum. 

"How's it been?"

"Fine, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Heard you're in the final stages for your transfer to Mirae. Namjoon says it's been crazy busy for you because you're trying to wrap things up before you leave."

"Oh, right." You look down at your hands. "Yeah. Yeah, he's right." You pause. "It has been busy that I've barely had time for myself. All worth in the end, I guess."

"Excited?"

"Not sure yet. I will be, I think."

"Mm. That's great, Y/N. You deserve it." You look at him and furrow your brows before scoffing a bit.

"So, that's it? We're just gonna act like things are fine because you're coming to my rescue during a storm?"

"No, that's not it at all." San looks at you, almost matching your energy. "First of all, I was worried about you. Second, I just wanted to check in and then apologize. Is that so wrong of me to do?"

"You don't have to do all that."

"Well, I want to."

"Apologize for what?" You look directly outside of the windshield, listening and watching as the rain hits the glass harshly.

"The texts and the calls during Mingi's birthday at the bar."

"It's fine."

"Was it? You were kinda brushing me off."

"The last time we spoke before that, you broke up with me and we didn't necessarily part ways on a friendly note."

"I wanted to, but you were angry."

"You decided what was best for me. Without me." You cross your arms and look out the window, feeling the hot tears brimming your lids.

"I didn't come and pick you up to argue." He sighs when he sees the switch in your body language. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry because I know I was out of line and I shouldn't have done things that way. I did mean it, though. Everything I said to you that night. What happened that night didn't mean—"

"What is the point of this, San?" You begin to cry into your hands while sitting in the seat. "I don't know what you want."

"Baby, you know what I want."

"Stop." You whine a bit. "I don't know what you want."

"You. It's always been you." He shakily sighs, his own tears brimming his lids. "I'm sorry, I just— I didn't mean to hurt you, love. You know I didn't. I know you've been angry about it, but I was just trying to do what was best at the time. I was scared, and I didn't want anything to happen to you so I jumped. Baby, please know that." His eyes are burning up, cheeks slightly rosy as he looks at you with concern. With hurt.

With love.

"San, you make this so complicated." You whine as you dig your head into your hands as a dull headache comes on.

"I'm not trying to, sweetheart." He almost matches your tone, gaining frustration from the entire situation all over again. It isn't you, no. It's just the fact that he had to do what he needed to do in order to blow shit over, but that meant spending months away from you— the one person wanted and needed. 

You're pulled out of your own thoughts when the rain starts to pick up again, pounding against the windshield and windows like pellets. You sigh and shake your head, running your hand through your hair.

"Can we just not.. right now? The storm is gonna pick up again, maybe I should just head back—" 

"You can stay at mine. I'll give you space like I promised. Who knows when the generators will be back up." He starts up his car and you don't even protest. "Do you want me to stop by anywhere before heading to the house?"

"It's crazy out here, San. We should just get back to the house." He sighs a bit.

"I'll make you some ramen when we get back." You quietly sit back and watch as San safely navigate the incredibly wet and dangerous roads back to his house. Luckily, it isn't far from campus, and your anxiety lowers when he gets closer to his place. Just as you're about to turn onto his street, the storm picks up quick— the rain hitting the car harshly, making it hard to see through the windshield. But, San finally pulls into his garage, allowing you to release the breath you've been holding during the car ride.

You feel safe again.

You feel safe like you typically do when you're with San. Angry or not— San has always been a safe space for you.

He swings your door open after grabbing your things in the back, giving you space to step out and walk ahead of him. It feels so familiarly unfamiliar walking into his house after months of not doing so, but everything feels the same. It still feels.. safe. Comfortable. 

It looks the same.

"It's warm."

"Good." San chuckles a bit before nodding towards upstairs. "I'll take you to the guest bedroom so you can get comfortable and do whatever you need to do." You nod and follow San upstairs, trying to see if anything has changed. But, nothing has. 

He swings the door open and the bed is still neatly made with its light grey, fluffy duvet, matching sheets and pillowcases. You quietly set your things down while San backtracks out into the hallway.

"Let me grab you a towel." You nod, starting to go through your bag to change into the pajamas you brought— some old christmas pants and an oversized sweater. San comes back into the room with a towel, placing it gently on the edge of the bed. "Here."

"Thank you." You grab the towel, along with your travel pouch and clothes, and head to the guest bathroom to get washed up. You're setting your things down onto the counter when you hear San approaching. He's carrying something in his hand, welcoming himself into the bathroom.

"I, um, have this." San brings a basket full of skincare and hair products that you use. "I took note of the stuff you use so you wouldn't have to keep hauling it over. You know.. back then." You turn to him, surprised he got every detail right.

"San."

"It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is. Thank you."

"Course. Do you need anything else?"

"No. This is perfect." He nods. 

"I'll be downstairs." You give him a tiny smile before he walks out and shuts the door to leave you to your peace. You take a moment to go through the basket that San brought in, feeling your heart swell at how incredibly attentive he's always been. 

You miss him so badly, and he's just in the room below.

You shake off the thoughts in your head, stepping into the piping hot shower to finally release all stress and overthinking. You take your time being that San's power seems to be holding on strong, and you're not gonna lie, his shower feels amazing after the busy ass weeks you've been having. You step out after a good 30-mins of extra lathering, exfoliation and scrubbing, really giving yourself the self-care treatment you've been yearning for. You finish up your routine by lotioning up and brushing some treatment through your hair before changing into your pajamas. You step into the room to fix your things, grabbing your laptop and gently tossing it on the bed so you can slowly pick up where you left off earlier—

"Nice pajamas." San stands by the door with a bowl and water in his hands, making you roll your eyes.

"I was supposed to head to my mom's, not yours." You pout and it makes San bite his lip to prevent himself from teasing you even more about your mickey mouse Christmas pajamas. "Don't make fun of me."

"No, it's cute." He sets the bowl of ramen on the nightstand near the bed. "Made you a bowl."

"Thank you." He nods.

"I'm gonna be next door in my office to finish up some things. Will you be okay in here?"

"Yeah, I will be."

"Well, you're welcome to pop in if you need anything. Help yourself to anything downstairs, too. You can just leave the bowl in the dishwasher."

"No worries. Thank you, San." You say softly as you sit on the edge of the bed. He nods and locks eyes with you for a moment, a soft gaze on his face before he grabs at the door handle. He slowly shuts the door, almost pained having to do so.

He wishes he didn't have to, he wishes he didn't have to keep this door between you two. Those walls.

And you do, too. But, you're too scared to say it. Because if you say it, how will you overcome these feelings? You shouldn't even be here in the first place since you've done so well minding your own business while burying your feelings for San. You've done so well, and now, you're here. Threatening to reverse all of that work. You just weren't sure where this would take you two and the uncertainty kills you.

In the end, what if it just never really works out? What would've all of this been for?

You shake the thoughts out of your head, eating the delicious ramen San made you before chugging most of your water bottle. It gives you enough energy to power through the work you couldn't complete earlier in your studio due to the power going out. You can hear San hopping on a few phone calls, one being with Jongho. You hear San's deep voice talking through a lot of key points during some of these calls. You try to focus your way through most of your work, trying to ignore how awfully attractive San sounds through the walls.

Then, it gets quiet. And you know he's busying himself, too. 

When in reality, San is wondering when he could talk to you a little more. He can't stop thinking about how cute you look in those pajamas. How much he just wanted to hug you and hold you close. 

To just be with you.

But instead, he lets out an audible sigh and continues working on his presentation for this meeting coming up for a new grant he's close to being rewarded. It takes him about another 45 minutes before he's done for the evening. He shuts off his computer and fixes his desk before heading out of his office to get cozy.

You don't really hear San moving around as much, so you figured he was deep in his work that you could head downstairs, clean up your dishes and grab another water bottle for the night. When you swing the door open, the door to San's office is open, and so is the room. You don't see San around, but you do faintly hear the shower going. You quietly shut the door and head down the steps with the dishes and empty water bottle in hand, instantly tossing the bottle into San's recycling bin. You wash the dishes instead of leaving them in the dishwasher, setting them neatly on San's drying rack next to the sink. Afterward, you dig into San's fridge for a new water bottle, quickly eyeing how stocked his fridge is.

"Hey." He looks at you as he comes down the steps slowly, running a small towel across his wet hair. Your eyes can't help but fall to his bare chest for a short moment, a shirt hanging on his broad shoulder. "Sorry, wasn't expecting you to be down here right at this moment." You shut the fridge door.

"Just wanted to grab some more water and wash your dishes." He nods.

"Is it too cold for you upstairs? Do you want me to turn up the heat?"

"No, it's alright. Thanks." He brushes past you, the scent of his body wash lingering in the air. He digs into the fridge and pulls out his own water bottle before twisting the cap open and taking a sip. You find yourself stuck in your position until thunder roars outside, lightning following shortly afterward. 

"Jeez." San says, looking at the weather outside. "Yeah, you definitely wouldn't be having a good time at your place in this."

"Not at all." He cocks his head to the side, trying to read the quiet tone you respond with.

"You scared of thunder?"

"No." You look at him with a look. "Not really." He cocks a brow up, still shirtless a few feet away from you. "Kinda. It's just really loud." He chuckles a bit.

"Well, you're safe here." You silently nod.

"Aren't you cold or something?" You avoid eye contact as you take another sip of your water.

"Not really. Why? Is this bothering you?" He smirks a bit and you roll your eyes.

"Please."

"Just curious." Is all he says with the smirk still on his face while taking another sip. You should be heading upstairs to mind your own business and sleep, distancing yourself from San like you had originally planned.

But, you can't.

And he can tell.

He stands in the kitchen, watching as you pause in your steps, turning back to face him.

"San?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Can I.. ask you something then?"

"What's up?" He gently sets his bottle back down, slipping into his t-shirt. Finally, you think. It's hard when your attraction to him hasn't faded one bit.

"About that night.. with Zara."

"Oh." He simply says, leaning against the counter. "What about that night?"

"Did you mean that part?" You step closer to him. "You know, about the kiss."

"I did. It shouldn't have happened in the first place, and there was just a misunderstanding between us. I never meant to lead her on or anything, but I think she might've mistaken my actions for feelings."

"Oh." He sees you deflate a bit and he reaches out to brush your hair back. He does it slow, though. In case you don't want him near you, or you retract. But, you don't. You look at him like you've been needing him the same way he's needed you, and it relaxes him a bit.

"Y/N, I promise. It didn't mean anything. She kissed me first and I didn't really have time to react right away. It sounds stupid, and I was drunk. But, it meant nothing to me. And I told her the truth." His hand rests on your cheek and you lean into his touch. "Even throughout all of that, I just felt even more.. lonely and empty without you, I didn't really know how to cope with it."

"It made me feel like you two had something going on."

"No." He says softly. "I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean to make you sad or upset over that." You pull away from his touch and look down at your feet.

"That's okay."

"Is it?" You nod. "I'm sorry for the way I came off that night, too. I didn't mean to overwhelm you or anything."

"That's okay, San." You respond close to a whisper.

"I thought you were done with me."

"No. I've just been doing what you insisted in the first place." He sighs, his hand dropping down from your cheek.

Things shouldn't be this complicated, and he's afraid he doesn't care much about the repercussions anymore. Time has passed, and his feelings haven't changed.

It shouldn't be like this.

"Anyway. Should probably head back upstairs." There's a sense of defeat in your tone and San can feel it, too. He simply nods, fighting with himself to gain the courage to just ask you to join him in bed tonight so you can talk, catch up. 

So he can say sorry.

So he can get you back.

Because that's all he wants, and that's all he's ever cared for.

Why he chose today in particular, he isn't sure. But, the storm, the gloomy days and the rain all reminded him of the way he'd be feeling lately and how tired he was of it.

San quietly follows you up the steps, every step closer and closer to shattering through the invisible glass floor he walks on.

Fuck this.

"Hey. Why don't you—" San begins, but it comes out at the same exact time you hit him with the—

"Actually. Is it okay if I join you?" The both of you pause, looking at each other with a sort of need, a sort of long time longing and yearning.

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah, of course." You rub at your arm as you slowly walk into the room after him, awkwardly standing at the end of his bed as if you hadn't slept there before. "You can get comfortable, Y/N. You don't have to do that."

"Sorry, it's just been awhile."

"That's okay." He pulls back the covers and gives you a moment to slip in before he does. He adjusts a bit, making sure to leave some space in between in case you were uncomfortable, but the distance only has you feeling empty. Lonely. "Gotta make sure the thunder doesn't get you."

"Funny." You turn to him and glare, making him laugh a bit. The photo on his nightstand catches your attention— it's a photo you two took on your trip to the Baskin Conference. He must have caught on because his eyes travel down to the photo and he smiles toothlessly.

"It's my favorite picture."

"It's mine, too." You respond softly while looking at San in front of you. His eyes are roaming around, eyeing your features. "So, are you and Zara still friends?" He shrugs.

"I don't really know. I haven't talked to her. It's pretty awkward and I know I hurt her, so I don't know if she necessarily wants me around."

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

"She's always had it for you, San. And I almost thought you two were better off. I thought it'd end up that way when we broke up." He shakes his head.

"Nah. I've only been concerned about one person and that has never changed since everything happened." He says, close to a whisper. His hand comes to your cheek again, gently caresses the surface with his thumb. The space in between you two feels so cold, and it makes you realize you don't wanna be this far from San.

You don't want anything to keep you two apart anymore.

"I wanna talk to you about that day, too. When we were in the car."

"Okay." 

"There were so many things happening that I just needed to protect you from." He brushes the hair away from your face. "Please know that I never wanted it to happen, and that I never had any plans to leave. I just had to do what was right because I was scared for you first and foremost. I didn't want you to get hurt, I didn't want anything to happen to you."

"I know, San. I'm sorry." You whisper. "I was too hurt to realize it at first, but I know you were just trying to protect me and do what was best." He licks his lips and continues to maintain eye contact.

"But, trust me. I wouldn't have if I truly didn't have to, angel. You were and have always been the most important person. That hasn't changed." You lean into his touch, turning your head to gently lay a kiss on the palm of his hand— scooting into his arms when he pulls you into them.

And it feels like home all over again.

"San."

"Yeah, love?"

"I don't wanna do this anymore."

"I don't either." You feel the tears welling up in your lids, a few already streaking down your cheeks. The only difference this time around is that San is here to wipe it away, to comfort you, to physically reassure you that he has always been here regardless of the circumstances.

"I'm tired of crying over you, I'm tired of missing us."

"I hated seeing you cry. I don't want you to cry."  He whispers.

"Then, what're we supposed to do, San?" You ask at a whisper and he continues to cup your cheek.

"You're transferring, love. Things will change, and I don't think it'll be as bad as it was before."

"I know, but we shouldn't be reckless anymore. Regardless if I'm transferring."

"I won't. We won't. I can't keep going like this, baby. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do and I don't wanna do it anymore." He shakes his head. "I can't lose you for good. I can't."

"You won't."

"Good, cause I don't plan to." He says lowly, caressing your cheek before bringing your lips to his for a sweet, soft kiss.

You missed this, and you missed San. And your body must have too, because it reacts instantly to his touch. His kiss.

He holds you close, his body heat keeping you warm under the sheets. He cups your cheek and presses soft, feathery kisses to your eye, cheek.

Nose.

Lips.

"Missed you, sweetheart."

"Missed you too, Sannie."

"Yeah?" He whispers, continuing to plant sweet kisses across your face, down your neck.

Soon, your shirt is off and so is San's. He takes his time caressing your body, feeling every inch that he can. 

Lips gently dragging across your skin like a paintbrush against the canvas; painting you with sweet, love marks— kisses that are meant to close and heal each wound from the past months.

You and San take your time indulging in each other. The kisses are slow, the touches are gentle. The actions are sweet. He hovers over you, careful not to put his entire weight down while he kisses down to your chest— tongue swirling around your perked buds one at a time before gently pulling back with a pop. His thumb is slowly rubbing at your heat as he continues his trail down, two digits slipping in just to feel how wet you are for him— how ready you are for him. His lips are grazing yours as he slightly picks up the pace; just enough for you to feel his fingers curling at the right spots, dragging them in and out at a overwhelmingly pleasurable pace to start you off.

He takes his time. His focus is on you, not himself.

When you beg him to keep going, he teases you a bit with his cock— slipping and sliding in between your folds with intention, nudging his tip ever so slightly into your entrance before repeating his motions a few more times. He lets out a low moan when he sees how much you're yearning for him, how much your eyes are pleading him for him to give you more and more— slowly easing himself into the space that was made for him and him only until he bottoms out, your pussy swallowing him whole. He pauses for a second, now lowering himself back down onto your body so he can hold you close. The both of you wrap your arms around each other as he starts at a slow and steady pace— letting you feel every inch of him, every part of him that missed you so terribly and so deeply. 

He praises you in your ear, keeping you close, holding you close; making sure he won't ever let you go again. Everything about it is so sensual, so intimate, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be than in San's arms. He continues slowly, deeply, laying more kisses across the skin of your neck and jaw.

Back up to your cheeks, eyes.

Nose. 

Lips. 

“Can you be a good girl and turn around for me, baby? Hm?” He says and hums lowly. “Please.” He pleads, just as he presses his lips onto yours for a heated, open-mouthed kiss. You do as he asks, flipping onto your stomach while you press your cheek against the pillow. His large hands roam up your body, leaving kisses in a fiery trail from your lower back— up to your shoulder blades and the sides of your neck. He reconnects your bodies as one, your mouth falling agape as he lets out a deep moan. You’ve got a leg bent up, with the other straight— San’s hands resting on your thigh and hip as he slides his thick cock in and out of you. He’s quick to find his rhythm, moans and repeated whines filling the walls of the bedroom.

"Y/N." San lowers himself to grip your chin, back pressed against his chest. He whispers in your ear as he rolls his hips into you from behind harshly, an arm now wrapped around you to keep you as close as possible.

"Sannie." You breathe out repeatedly. He pants, the low moans and whimpers echoing in the space of the room. 

Bodies slick with sweat. 

San moves to the side, pressing his lips against your temple just before letting out another guttural groan at the way your walls squeeze him so perfectly, pushing him right at the edge.

Heaven sent.

"Y/N." He repeats your name, his words are choked; he feels himself tipping over, coil ready to snap any second. His dick slick with your wetness every time he drags in and out. "I love you." He says. "I love you, baby." He repeats over and over, and over, and over again. Until it sinks into your skin, into those wounds. 

Until it bleeds deep into your soul.

"I love you too, San."

In the following weeks, you find yourself busy as can be in Professor Kim's lab. You were able to pull your transfer application and all the required documents together within the two week timeframe given, along with participating in meetings with Professor Qi to slowly start getting yourself acclimated to her lab, her work and the clinical department you'd be working heavily in.  

To say you are exhausted would be an understatement.

But, having San back by your side helps a lot. 

You and San have been very secretive about your relationship for very obvious reasons; despite you pretty much having the transfer in your pocket and being the next step in your career, you were still scared. You stopped having San pick you up on campus, opting to drive to his place and slipping your car into the garage while San would leave his cars out. You wouldn't mention San to anyone, you wouldn't talk about his lab, you wouldn't do anything except focus on yourself, your work in Professor Kim's lab and making preparations to move.

After hours— it was different.

Barely can keep your hands off of each other within the walls of San's home, making up for lost time. Constantly in each other's space, afraid to let go in case the other wanders too far away. But, you could never. San could never.

"Sannie." You giggle when San wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses you against the forehead, cheek, jaw. His hands roam around your body, caressing and squeezing every inch he possible can. 

"Why are you rushing out?"

"Uh, because I have things to do. Like you do." You laugh.

"5 minutes."

"5 minutes and we'll both be late. No." He whines and pouts.

"No fun."

"I'll see you later, yeah?" You turn to face him after getting your things together. "Have a good day." San continues to pout.

"You too, baby." You laugh and start heading out of the room. San follows, tying the tie around his neck properly. "What time are you planning to come, anyway?"

"I promised my friends I'd get dinner with them, so after?"

"Hm." He hums. "Okay, love."

"But, at least I won't have an early start tomorrow."

"Thank god. Cause I got plans for tonight." You smile and caress his chin before giving him another quick peck to the lips. 

"I love you." You say softly when you pull back briefly.

"I love you, too." San smiles, losing his pout completely when he hears you say those words. It could literally fuel his entire day— which, he'll need with all the back-to-back meetings he has today.

When you get to campus, you head straight to class— grabbing a parfait on the way over. It seems to be a pretty busy day on campus, being that it was nearly impossible to find parking, and all your favorite quick cafés seemed to be packed with people. You find that there are multiple symposiums going on, along with other important events around campus. Class isn't too bad, and it goes by a lot quicker with the last half being small group breakouts and assignments that need to be completed before class ends. Afterward, you hurry on to the lab, hoping to snag one of the small conference rooms for your check-in with Professor Qi.

Except, you run into a minor roadblock— one that you very much want to confront head on instead of ignoring it like you typically do.

"Professor Lee?" You turn to Iseul as you tuck your books to your chest. She turns over her shoulder to look at you, brows knitted tightly together as if she's already annoyed that you're calling for her attention. And if she is, you couldn't give a fuck. Because she isn't gonna like what's gonna come out of your mouth next, and you hope it finally sinks into her thick ass skull.

"Yes?" She checks her watch. "Can we make this brief? I'm heading to a meeting."

"Don't worry, I don't care to take up much of your time." You give her a small smile. "Thank you for your support with my move to Professor Qi's lab at Mirae. Seems like after all the trouble you went through to try and air out my business, it only brought me to better opportunities. I'm not going anywhere and so isn't San." She's glaring at you now, watching your every move in total disgust.

"Very bold move of you to come up to me and waste my time on the way to a meeting."

"Also very bold of you to meddle in his business after everything you've put him through."

"You have no right to speak on that."

"And you had no right to involve yourself in something that doesn't concern you." You pause. "Just so we're clear on this." You step a little closer and tilt your head to the side. "You can do whatever you want, however you want. I'm not gonna let you take his happiness away again." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, turning to her watch again.

"I’ll assume this is done." You give her a toothless smile before she storms off, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Although she probably won't give this another thought, you felt accomplished having released that from your chest. But little do you know, she hates it, and she hates it because she only thought she was doing the right thing.

Now, she's the enemy and everyone sees her and Yunho as that.

you: hey.

You pull out your phone as you scurry along to the conference room, still having enough time to spare before your check-in with Professor Qi. San texts back almost instantly even though he's definitely in a Zoom meeting right now, making you chuckle to yourself.

He will always make time for you, regardless.

san: hey baby. what's up?

you: sorry, wasn't expecting you to answer mid-meeting.

san: it's alright, i can do both. you okay?

you: i am.

you: i just wanna say i really appreciate you, san.

san: all of a sudden? 😂 i appreciate you too, love. more than you know.

you: yeah. 🥹 i love you.

san: i love you too, sweet girl.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated @randajjjad

[pedroscurls]

welcome to broadway (one-shot)

summary: it's the anniversary of oklahoma! and with it being your first broadway show, hugh takes you under his wing to show you the ropes. along the way, you realize that you've developed feelings for him. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 5.4k warnings: dry humping, suggestive smut (sorry - didn't go explicit in this one!), light dirty talk (this also isn't proofread, so apologies for any typos!!!) a/n: to the anon and @sir-thisisadndserver who both requested a story about broadway, i hope you both enjoyed this!!! (ugh, i wish i could watch the music man in good quality bc he just looks so good in it. but also, hugh in oklahoma! has done things to me... my god, his voice, the curls, just everything.) i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman! this is purely fictional.

THE TABLE READ

You can’t believe it. Lead role of Oklahoma for their anniversary showing. Twenty five years later and while mostly everyone came back except the role of Laurey, you were the only odd one out. You knew what this play entailed, knew exactly how it would end. You also knew that you’d be playing alongside Hugh Jackman, who was reprising his role as Curly. 

You’re excited, yet nervous. Hugh Jackman not only was an amazing movie and television actor, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t watch most (if not all) of his shows on Broadway. His sheer talent truly captivated, yet intimidated you. You don’t know how you will be able to act “normal” around him. He isn’t just talented, but he’s also incredibly attractive. Anyone with eyes would be able to see that. 

You’re the first one seated at the table and notice Hugh is set to sit next to you. You keep your eyes focused on the pages in front of you, trying to calm your nerves and get yourself ready to be in character. You can hear people come in, excitement and laughter filtering the room. You take a deep breath and stand up to introduce yourself. You’re taken aback by how welcoming everyone is and it puts you at ease, your nerves slowly beginning to die down. Everyone’s excitement is infectious, making you feel immensely thankful to be part of this cast. 

Your back is turned to the door, talking to one of the cast members that you don’t realize Hugh Jackman has finally arrived. He’s greeting everyone with a large grin and waves and you don’t notice. Not until you feel a soft touch in the middle of your back. Slowly, you turn around and look up, eyes slightly going wide as you stare up at him. 

He’s staring down at you with such a large smile that it literally makes you feel weak in the knees. Yeah, you don’t know how you’re going to get through this play without fawning over him, especially since your character – Laurey – tries to hide her feelings for Curly for the majority of the play. 

“Hello there,” he says softly, hand extending out for you to take. “I don’t think we’ve gotten the chance to meet yet. I’m Hugh.”

You bite your lower lip and extend your own hand, gently sliding it into his and shaking it slowly. “Hi,” you smile shyly and tell him your name. “It’s an honor to share the stage with you. I’ve been a huge fan.” 

Hugh chuckles, his hand soft and light with yours. He releases your hand and keeps his eyes solely focused on you. “I’m a huge fan as well,” he admits. “I’m glad you get to be my Laurey.” 

My Laurey. You feel your heart rate beat ten times faster, heat rising in your cheeks. “And you, my Curly.” 

He lets out a quiet chuckle, hands moving to his pockets. Hugh finds your energy and presence very calming and despite this being your first ever time on Broadway, he has to commend you for being professional. Though, he can see the excitement that flickers in your eyes. He knows that look, has even donned that same look every time he got on stage. “So, I hear this is your first time?” 

“On Broadway, yeah. Do I seem too nervous?” you laugh, biting your lower lip. “Because if I do, it’s because I am. I’m trying to keep it cool, but to be in a room with all of you? I just can’t believe it. I don’t want to mess up.” 

Hugh’s eyes softened. “Eh, we’re just a group of people who love to perform, including you. We’re all gonna make mistakes along the way, even on opening night, but as long as you’re having fun, that’s all that matters.”

You’ve heard stories of Hugh – how he puts people at ease, looks out for everyone in the cast and crew, and right now, you’re experiencing it firsthand. You suddenly feel your nerves disappear under his gaze and for once since finding out that you’d be playing the lead role of Laurey, you feel immense excitement. You’ve never been one to be shy on stage, but knowing that you’d be the new person in this cast instilled anxiety in you. They’ve done this before. They’ve played these same roles. And ultimately, you didn’t want to disappoint any of them.

“Thank you,” you finally reply. “I didn’t realize I needed to hear that.” 

“Well, if you never need more reassurance, I’m your man.” he winks. 

The theater director calls everyone’s attention, making a short speech at how it’s great to be back and how amazing of a show you were all going to have. You look around the room, seeing the smiles on everyone’s faces before you finally look up at Hugh. You’re surprised because he’s already looking down at you, giving you a reassuring nod as you feel his hand brush against yours. 

The subtle action grounds you, settles the nerves that begin to build in the pit of your stomach. You feel a sudden calmness wash over you as you take a deep breath, pulling your gaze away from him when you hear your name being called. 

“And we have our Laurey,” your theater director says, everyone clapping and cheering for you. “Welcome,” he says with a grin. “We’re lucky to have you.” 

You smile in his direction, nodding at everyone else in the room. “Glad to be part of this amazing cast,” you reply, everyone continuing to clap before it begins to slow down. 

“And our Curly,” the theater director continues, nodding towards the man standing next to you. “We’re all so excited that you’re here to reprise your role. It’s gonna be a great show.”

Once the theater director finishes his speech, everyone in the room takes their respective seats. Hugh pulls out your chair for you and you smile up at him, sitting down as he pushes it in for you. 

“Thank you,” you tell him.

“Anytime,” he winks. 

—

Throughout the table read, you finally feel at ease, comfortable in your element as you change your accent to reflect your character’s. Hugh changes his own and how lucky of you to get a front seat of his skill and talent. He turns to you, saying his lines at the beginning of the play. “On'y she talked so mean to me a while back, Aunt Eller, I'm a good mind not to take her.”

He’s staring at you with a charming smile, leaning back against his seat with his eyes staring into yours. 

You then say your line, rolling your eyes with your arms crossed over your chest. “Ain't said I was goin'!” 

Hugh then says his line almost immediately, “Ain't ast you!”

There’s a silence that engulfs the entire room as you two stare at each other. He’s still staring at you with a big grin and you with a frown on your face and eyes narrowed. You’re surprised at how much chemistry you already have with him, how easy it is to slip into the role of Laurey and exchange lines with him without any issue. 

As the table read continues, you can’t help but take notice of Hugh’s presence next to you. The scene where you kiss approaches and you know that it isn’t going to happen here, today, but to know that you will eventually have to kiss him makes you nervous, but also very excited. 

By the time the table read ends, a few hours have passed and everyone claps. The theater director dismisses all of you, saying that rehearsals will begin next week. You begin to pack your things before you feel Hugh gently reach a hand out to rest over your forearm. 

“You did great,” he says. “And to think you were nervous?” 

“I was,” you laugh quietly. “But I guess you helped ease my nerves.”

“I did, huh?” he smiles proudly. “Well, I suppose I should say you’re welcome.” 

You shake your head, standing up from the table and seeing him follow suit. “I was wondering–”

“Do you think we should–” 

You both say simultaneously, both letting out a quiet laugh. “You first,” you tell him, gazing up at him. 

Hugh smiles, bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck nervously. “Would you be okay with exchanging numbers? We can go over lines sometime when we’re not in rehearsal to get more practice in.”

You’re trying to contain your excitement, trying to remain calm and collected, so you give him a nod and then reach for your phone. “I was thinking the same thing. Here,” you hand him your phone and see him give you his. “Maybe we can meet up for coffee later this week?” 

Hugh smiles, typing in his number into your phone. “That’d be great. I know a perfect place.” 

You smile to yourself and type in your number before handing his phone back to him and taking your phone from him. “Perfect,” you respond, putting your phone back into your bag. “And if I get nervous at all–”

“Feel free to text me. Or call me.” Hugh finishes for you. “Like I said, I’m your man.” 

“Thanks, Curly,” you grin, changing your accent to reflect Laurey. “That’s mighty kind’a you.” 

Hugh chuckles, his eyes twinkling in the light as he smiles down at you. “Anythin’ for ya, Laurey.” 

—

REHEARSALS

The rehearsals have become more frequent as the date of opening night looms closer. You and Hugh have spent so much time together outside of rehearsals, either you coming by to his place or him coming to yours. Your relationship with him has blossomed in the span of a few months, feeling much more comfortable and confident around him. The more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself catching feelings for him. You wonder if it’s because of the nature of the role you’re playing, being the love interest of his and the fact that you both have rehearsed the kiss and dances multiple times. 

Though, you can’t help but notice the frequent texts and calls from him that have nothing to do with the play, or the way he lingers around you, some part of him always needing to touch you – on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, your hand. It all seems innocent enough, but with each touch, with each lingering gaze, you feel more and more attracted to the possibility that maybe the feelings are mutual.

Today, it’s only you and Hugh in rehearsals, practicing the dance in the dream sequence. You’ve both gone over the dance plenty of times today, both drenched in sweat. You take a short break, sitting down on the floor as your back rests against the wall. You take a long swig of water before Hugh takes a seat next to you, his side flush against yours. 

“Hey you,” he says, smiling in your direction. “You really know how to push me,” Hugh chuckles. “And I thought I was the hardest worker. You definitely make me look like I’m not doing enough,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes, gently nudging him with your shoulder. “Oh please, I’m only pushing you because you’re pushing me.” 

“What do you say?” Hugh asks. “One more rehearsal and we call it a night? Grab a bite to eat at my place?” 

“That sounds amazing,” you sigh in relief. “I’d have kept going if you hadn’t said anything.” 

Hugh chuckles, moving an arm around your shoulders as you lean into him. “You know, you can tell me to slow down. I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”

“I know,” you reply. “I just wanna prove to you and everyone else that I’m meant to be here.”

Hugh tilts his head. “You are meant to be here. You’ve got a lot of talent,” he says your name, eyes gazing into yours. “And this is just the beginning for you.” 

“Yeah, we’ll see after opening night,” you chuckle. 

“Not only are you talented,” Hugh says. “But you also love being on stage. Everyone can see it, can feel it. The audience will too. Now, get off your ass and let’s finish this dance.” He smiles, standing up and reaching out for you. 

You chuckle, taking his hands and standing up with his help. Your hands immediately dart out to rest on his shoulders, bodies flush against each other as your nose brushes against his. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For always reassuring me. I’m sure it’s exhausting.”

Hugh’s eyes never leave yours as one hand moves to rest on your lower back and the other takes your hand in his. “Not exhausting at all, baby,” he replies, his breath fanning over your lips. 

You clear your throat at the pet name, biting your lower lip as the music begins to play. You take a deep breath, trying to snap out of the trance that he put you in to focus on the dance sequence. Your gaze never leaves his as you both move across the dance floor. It was that specific moment where you were sure that he felt the same way. 

—

After rehearsals, you drive to Hugh’s place and see him step out of his car with a box of pizza. He leads you inside and walks into the kitchen, sitting at the table. You walk over to him and sit next to him, inhaling the aroma of food once he opens the box. 

“God, I feel like I can eat this whole thing,” you chuckle, taking a slice of pizza and lifting it to your lips. You’ve always felt comfortable around Hugh and you have to wonder if it’s because of him, how calm and grounded he makes you feel. You’re continuing to eat, eyes falling shut as you sway your body in the seat, just happy to be eating something. 

Hugh watches you with a loving gaze, eyes scanning your face as he stares at you. He certainly didn’t expect you to come into his life the way you did. It’s no secret that he gets along with everyone and has chemistry with every leading lady in his roles, but you… You’re a completely different story. He finds your passion to perform refreshing and your talent invigorating. Not only are you professional, but he appreciates your ability to put your all into each performance, even though it’s only rehearsal. It gets him excited to know that come opening night, everyone will know just how talented you are. 

He’s taken out of his thoughts when he sees you open your eyes, looking at him with a furrowed brow. 

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask.

Hugh smiles, eyes lowering to your lips as he sees pizza sauce at the corner of your lips. He also loves the fact that you’re not shy around him. He reaches up and wipes the pizza sauce from your lips with the pad of your thumb, staring into your eyes. “You’re a messy eater when you’re hungry.” 

The heat in your cheeks rises once again as you set the pizza slice down to grab a napkin, wiping your mouth. “You should have fed me during our break earlier.” 

Hugh chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Fair enough.” He doesn’t break the gaze, bringing the pad of his thumb to his lips and licking the pizza sauce from it. He sees your eyes dip down to his lips, hearing you quietly clear your throat as you bite your lower lip. 

“You’re cute, you know that?” Hugh blurts out, head tilting as he stares into your eyes. 

You roll your eyes and gently reach out to shove his shoulder. “Yeah right.”

Hugh chuckles, leaning forward in your space. “You are,” he whispers. “And there’s just something about you. I can’t put my finger on it…”

“Hmm…” you say quietly, eyes continuously darting to his lips. “Hugh…”

“Yeah, baby?” he says lowly. 

“Is this–” you whisper. “Is this appropriate?” 

Hugh then leans back, shrugging a shoulder. “Probably not,” he admits. “But I can’t be the only one who feels something between us…”

You look up at him, wanting to reach out for him, to pull him back closer, but you don’t. You’ve wanted him for months now, wanted this moment to happen for so long, but you couldn’t. You just didn’t know how things would change if you were both to cross that boundary… Even though you’ve both probably crossed so many lines already. 

“You aren’t,” you admit. “I want this just as badly as you, but–”

“Not yet,” he finishes for you. “After the play.”

You nod. “I just don’t know what’d happen if we do this while we’re still in production… I’ve waited for a few months, another few won’t hurt, right?”

Hugh bites his lower lip and shrugs. “Might hurt me,” he teases. “I mean, we’ve kissed already as Curly and Laurey. But I’d love to just kiss you as… As me.” 

“A kiss wouldn’t hurt,” you say quietly, slowly leaning into him. “But that’s all we can do.” 

Hugh nods and stands up from the chair to pull you up into him. The lights from the city reflect off his large windows as his hand rests on your lower back and the other on your cheek. Slowly, he leans in and brushes the tip of his nose against yours. 

“If we do this,” he whispers lowly. “There’s no going back.” 

“Fine with me,” you answer. “Now kiss me already.” 

Hugh grins and then presses his lips against yours, fingertips resting on the back of your neck. You’ve both kissed so many times already, but this time feels so much more different. Your lips move against his own, hands moving to grip his arms. Hugh walks you back into his window, feeling the glass press against your back as his hand moves from your lower back to your hip. Your lips part for him and he slides his tongue past your lips, hearing you whimper as a result. 

The kiss deepens as tongues get involved, lips moving with more urgency against one another. You’re about to bring your leg up to hook around his hip, but you stop yourself, moving your hands to his chest and slowly pulling him away. Breathless and panting. 

Hugh rests his forehead against yours, eyes remaining shut. “I’d say that was a great real first kiss,” he laughs quietly. 

“Waiting for a few more months might prove to be tough,” you admit, moving your hands into his hair and tangling your fingers into his locks. 

Hugh chuckles and pecks your lips softly, pulling back to look down at you. “Maybe we don’t go the full distance… yet.” 

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, biting your lower lip as you stare up at him with desire filled in your orbs. 

“Come on.” Hugh takes your hand and leads you to his couch, sitting down against it and pulling you down onto him. You straddle his hips, clearing your throat as you feel his manhood press against your core. You wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders as his hands rest on your hips, leaning his head up slightly to capture your lips once more. 

“This okay?” he mumbles against your lips.

“More than okay,” you answer, beginning to move your lips with his. Without hesitation, you roll your hips against his own. You’re wearing leggings and he’s wearing sweatpants and while the fabric isn’t as thick as jeans, it’s still too much clothing for you because you need to feel more. You need to feel all of him. 

Hugh groans against your lips, feeling his manhood begin to stir awake at the friction. His hands slowly move upwards, underneath your shirt as his fingertips dig into the flesh of your skin. He leans up to gently bite at your lower lip, your moan escaping your lips. 

You apply more pressure when your hips roll against his, his length hardening and straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. You feel a wetness pool between your legs, an anticipation settling into the pit of your stomach. You don’t know how you would wait another few months before fully feeling him inside of you since this sneak peek wasn’t helping. Instead, you’re yearning for more.

Hugh pulls away from the kiss only to place gentle kisses along your jawline, his hands continuing to move up your back, his fingertips brushing against your sports bra and back down to your lower back. The pressure in his pants tighten and he wants nothing more than to rip your leggings off your legs and slam into you, but he has to show some restraint.

You tilt your head slightly for him, exposing more of your neck as you feel his lips and his scruff brush against one of your many hot spots. You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Hugh,” you moan quietly. When you feel his teeth graze your skin, you have to pull back to look down at him. Your chest is heaving and you’re almost breathless. “Mmm, if we don’t stop,” you whisper. “I won’t be able to control what will happen next.” 

Hugh smirks, licking his lips slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Let me just…” Hugh gently sets you down next to him, readjusting himself in his sweatpants and the action doesn’t go unnoticed. You can see the obvious tent in his pants and his hand grasping himself to adjust his hardening length into a much more comfortable position. You can see the outline of his manhood, feeling your throat go dry at the sight. He’s long and thick and you have to peel your eyes away from him to avoid just settling yourself on your knees between his legs. 

Hugh watches you, eyes taking in your frame from top to bottom. It doesn’t help lessen the pressure in his pants because it only just makes him harder. “I’m actually going to…” he begins, pointing down to the center of his sweatpants. “I’m gonna take care of this. Will you be okay for a bit?” 

You clear your throat. The thought of being under the same roof as Hugh as he’s jerking himself off to the thought of you excites you. “Y— Yeah, I’ll be, um…” you bite your lower lip. “I’ll be here.” 

Hugh nods and then leans over to kiss your cheek, lips brushing against your ear. “If I had it my way, you’d be the one helping me take care of this.”

You shiver against his words and look up at him. “And if I had it my way, I’d drop to my knees in front of you to take care of it.”

Hugh growls, the sight of you on your knees now fully ingrained in his mind. “Great,” he chuckles. “I’m gonna keep that in mind while I…” he points towards his lower half. “While I handle this.” Hugh then stands up from the couch and excuses himself to go to the bathroom, allowing you to lie down on the couch and letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“It’s gonna be a long few months,” you mutter to yourself.

—

OPENING NIGHT

You feel the nerves begin to build as you’re all getting ready to perform for opening night. You and the rest of the cast and crew are all ready to perform, but you… You’re anxious. You’re nervous. You’re afraid that you’re going to mess up, so when Hugh rests a hand on your lower back, you look up at him with a tense look on your face. 

“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” he whispers. “Just have fun.”

You nod, feeling his hand drop from your lower back and you reach for it, giving it a tight squeeze. “Okay,” you say. “Just have fun,” you repeat. 

“Exactly. Let’s have a great show, yeah?” Hugh reassures. “And after this,” he whispers, lowering enough so that his lips hover against your ear. “We can finally go back to my place and take the next step.” 

That makes you stand straighter. You had been so focused on making sure that your performance was perfect as opening night approaches that you and Hugh hadn’t had an intense, passion-filled night since the night you had your first kiss with him. 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as he pulls away with a wink. “You know just the right things to say,” you chuckle. 

Hugh grins. “I knew that’d get you excited.” 

You feel your nerves begin to settle as the curtain begins to rise, knowing that Hugh’s character begins the play with a song Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin’. 

Throughout the play, you feel at ease once you step on stage, easily slipping into character. The back and forth banter between your character and Hugh’s are filled with a hidden and unspoken passion that you have for each other. Despite the roles you’re both playing, you can feel the tension and excitement bubbling within you as the play continues. 

Just another hour and then you and Hugh can finally have the moment you both were waiting for. 

Your first time on Broadway proves to be more than what you expected and you love it. Being on stage, under the bright lights, with a cast and crew that has the same excitement and passion as you makes you aware of the fact that this is truly where you’re meant to be. You couldn’t believe that you had questioned yourself at the beginning of all of this. 

After the scene where Laurey fires Jud, you know what’s coming. The kiss with Curly, followed by the marriage proposal. Once your lips touch Hugh’s, it’s filled with so much passion and relief. Part of you has to wonder if it’s because the characters, Curly and Laurey, finally admitting the love they have for each other, or if it’s because the end of the play is nearing. 

And it isn’t until you pull away that you see a fleeting familiarity flicker in Hugh’s eyes, a grin lining his lips. Throughout the next scenes, you’re both side by side, basked in the joy of being newlyweds and you know there’s a scene where Hugh is shirtless with suspenders. You are both backstage, getting ready for the next scene as you see him flex his arms subconsciously. 

You’ve seen him shirtless before, but right now, there’s something about the sight that makes an immediate wetness pool between your legs. When Hugh looks over at you, he gives you a wink, knowing exactly that you were just checking him out. 

Throughout the rest of the play, as it nears the end, you can’t help the excitement that bubbles within you. It isn’t until the end of the play that Hugh’s touch becomes more urgent, like he’s just as ready to leave with you. Each person with a pivotal role is introduced at the end as they bow towards the audience. 

However, it isn’t until your name is called that the entire audience’s cheers become much louder. You walk towards the edge of the stage and bow, smiling and waving as they give you a standing ovation. You look back at your cast, back at Hugh, who all are clapping for you. 

It was a perfect night and you know it’s only beginning. 

—

You and Hugh join the rest of the cast for a celebratory after party, having changed into much more comfortable clothing. You’re both at other ends of the room, but while you’re each in a conversation with someone else, your gaze is locked on one another. 

It isn’t a secret that you’re attracted to each other, but tonight, it’s completely obvious. Hugh’s eyes move along your frame slowly and under his gaze – even from afar – it excites you. You look at the time, knowing that it’s already so late and you’re ready to leave. With Hugh. 

You make your rounds, saying goodbye to everyone until you reach Hugh. He excuses himself from the person he was speaking to and meets you halfway, eyes filled with anticipation. 

“I’m heading out,” you say softly. 

“Meet at my place?” Hugh asks.

You bite your lower lip and nod. “I’ll see you there.”

Hugh then reaches out for his phone and sends you a text. You pull out your phone and see a four digit number, furrowing a brow in confusion. “What’s this?”

“The code to get into my place,” Hugh confirms. “If you get there before me, feel free to let yourself in.”

You smile to yourself and then reach up to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “It was a great night, Curly.” 

Hugh’s arm tightens around your frame as he shuts his eyes, whispering into your ear. “And it’s only just starting, Laurey.” He pulls back and kisses your cheek, lingering for a moment before he pulls away completely. “I’ll see you in a bit, baby.” 

You leave the party and make your way to your car, anticipation simmering in your depths. You drive to Hugh’s house, knowing that you’d get there before him. So, when you enter the four digit code the gave you, you see the gates open and you drive into his driveway, the garage opening up for you. 

Just a few minutes after you park, Hugh pulls in behind you. You step out of your car and look over at him, seeing him turn off the headlights once he puts his car in park. He climbs out and strides over to you, arms wrapping around your waist immediately. Without allowing you to speak, he dips down and presses his lips against yours, moving them eagerly against yours. 

“Mmm,” you whimper, feeling his hand move to your backside as he gently squeezes it into his hand. 

“Let’s go inside,” he mumbles, pulling back to look down at you. “I’ve been waiting for months for this,” Hugh chuckles. 

You nod and take his hand, following him inside his home. You don’t get far because you lead him to his living room where you push him back onto his couch and you straddle his hips like the first night you shared your first real kiss with him. 

He doesn’t waste any time in removing your shirt though, growling at the sight of you completely exposed for him, having decided on not wearing a bra. Hugh feels drunk off of you, his mind swirling with the immense thoughts and ideas of what he wants to do to you tonight. He knows he won’t get a chance to do them all in one night, but he just isn’t sure what to do first. He wants to taste you, wants to be head first between your legs. But he also wants to feel your walls wrapped around him, milking him to his own release. 

But your moans… your moans pull him out of his thoughts and he’s suddenly very aware of the look on your face. The heat in your cheeks. Your parted lips. Your breaths coming in short pants. You want this just as bad as he does and it only excites him further. 

“You did amazing tonight, baby,” Hugh says softly, hands coming up to brush against you. 

You whimper, looking deeply into his eyes. “Thank you,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering as his thumbs brush against your peaks. “Hugh…” you moan quietly. 

“I know, baby. I know… Let me take care of you.” 

Throughout that night, you barely got any sleep, but when you did, you were completely spent. Hugh had helped you reach your climax more times than you can count and that had never happened before. He was so generous, so considerate, but it was only because he yearned for the sounds that escaped your lips. Loved to see you squirm against his touch, enjoyed the sight of your eyes fluttering when he finally entered you. 

Hugh knew he wanted more. Needed more. He felt like a possessed man once he finally got that first taste of you. You unleashed something almost animalistic in him – the desire to see you come undone. The first time it happened that night, Hugh was in absolute awe. The way you arched your back, lips apart, body squirming against his mattress and a loud moan escaping your lips… it made Hugh want more of that. Want more of you. 

And he was certainly going to get it, that he was sure of.

[pitchsidestories]

bittersweet II Ona Batlle x Lioness!Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | previous fanfic I word count: 1426

summary: after their heartbreaking loss to Spain in the World Cup final, Ona gently comforts her girlfriend. requested

author's note: hey everyone, we hope you find this fanfic enjoyable.❤️❤️

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

A year ago, you and your team saw a childhood dream come to life, lifting the Euros trophy on home soil and making history in the process. When you closed your eyes, the taste of triumph remained, rich and sweet, as if you could still feel the rush of glory from that moment.

But now, in this heart-wrenching moment, another dream has shattered on the pitch in Sydney’s stadium. England’s hopes have crumbled, as they fall to Spain in the World Cup Final. The stars were out tonight, their light piercing the sky, yet all you could feel was the suffocating darkness surrounding you.

It was almost unbearable, watching the Spanish players celebrate. You knew they’d earned every moment of it, after all they had overcome throughout the tournament. Yet, despite that, you couldn’t stop your lips from curling into a pout. Across the pitch, your eyes met Ona’s.

"Excuse me for a second," your girlfriend muttered apologetically to her celebrating teammates, her voice barely rising above the noise before she started walking toward you.

 "Hi," you greeted her, offering a sad smile.

Empathetically, Ona began:"Amor, I—"

The sudden flashes of cameras reminded her that you weren’t alone in this moment. Instinctively, she pulled you into a protective hug, shielding you from the prying eyes of the media.

“It’s okay. Congrats,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sincerity, even as you wished, just as deeply, that it had been your team hoisting the trophy. A bittersweet moment for both of you.

A smile brightened Ona’s face, her freckles like constellations scattered across her skin. She was your universe too: “Thank you. It still feels unreal, like a dream. But you guys were a tough opponent.”

“But not tough enough to win it,” you pointed out, the weight of the words lingering between you.

"Still," your girlfriend emphasized.

Her brown eyes sparkled as she added enthusiastically, "But I promise you something."

"What?", you asked quietly, fighting to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

Triumphantly, Ona leaned in close, whispering in your ear, making sure no one could read her lips: "Back in Barcelona, we’ll win everything."

"Oni, you can’t promise that!”, you gasped.

Happily, the brunette noticed a real, small smile tugging at your lips.

More seriously, she replied: “I can."

"Winning a quadruple sounds nice," you admitted, giving her a weak smile.

Ona did her best to comfort you, her voice soft and reassuring. "I know it's not the World Cup, but it's something."

"You’re the sweetest. You know that, right?", you questioned, your voice tinged with gratitude as the defender nestled her face against your hand.

“I know.”, your girlfriend chuckled warmly, being a soft comfort in the midst of it all.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you pushed Ona away: “Ugh, you look so incredibly happy. Go and celebrate with your teammates.”

“I’m sorry, amor.”, she laughed, her eyes sparkling.

“Love, don’t say sorry when you earned it!”, you scolded her affectionately.

Ona pouted slightly: “But I don’t like that you’re sad about it.”

“I mean I’m sad that my team and me lost. But that’s part of the game we love, it’s brutal.”, you tried to put all those conflicting feelings into words. Of course, you had just missed the biggest opportunity in your life to win the win the World Cup and it stung but if you had to lose to anyone, you were glad it was her.

Ona considered you, eyes soft and the gentlest smile on her lips: “It is. But once it stops hurting, you will be proud of how far you’ve come.”

“Likely.”, you forced a small smile. “And I also can’t wait for our small vacation.”

“It will be nice.”, Ona nodded happily.

“Oh yes, for sure.”

You both stood there for a moment, lost in the promise of your time together.

Suddenly the smile on Onas’s face wavered: “Y/n?”

“Yes?”, you replied.

She turned to look at her teammates who stood on one side of the pitch huddled together and instead of celebrating seemed to discuss something. More cameras had gathered around them.

“I’ll go now. Somethings seems off.”, she said, her eyebrows knotting together.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back later.”, she promised.

You followed her gaze. She was right, her team seemed concerned.

“Now you should go though, Campeona del mundo.”, you nodded, nudging her forward.

“See you.”, she said quickly and pressed a kiss to your cheek before jogging to the other Spanish players.

You watched her for a moment, immediately feeling that the interest had shifted from you two towards the Spanish team.

Before you knew it, Alessia appeared in front of you, hands on your shoulders as she studied your face.

“You look better now.”, she said softly.

You laughed quietly: “Thanks, Lessi.”

“Come here.”

She didn’t even give you a chance to protest, she just pulled you into the tightest hug, wrapping her long arms around you.

And suddenly it started to hurt again. It was raw and burning, knowing that you failed at the final step.

“We were so close.”, you whispered into her shoulder. There were no more tears left.

“We have another shot at it in four years.”, she replied while she rubbed slow circles on your back. She wasn’t ready to move on yet, you could hear it in her voice. It was a fact but too far away to even consider yet.

You nodded: “Right.”

“Let’s head back to the team hotel and get drunk,” Ella suggested with a cheeky wink, nudging you both toward the players’ tunnel. No matter what happened, through all the highs and lows, you could always count on your friends.

You agreed, your voice low. “Sounds good.”

“Come on,” she called when you didn’t move.

You quickly reassured her, starting to walk as the stadium’s catacombs pulled you deeper into shadow, away from the harsh spotlight. “Coming.”

Inside, you felt you could breathe much easier, no longer under the pressure of the cameras trying to capture every emotion that came with losing a game. Your heart skipped when you heard your name from your girlfriends’ lips.

 “Ona?” You turned around to meet her gaze.

An almost shy smile crossed the Spaniard’s face as she closed the distance between you.: “Thought I might find you here, where there are no cameras.”

Before you could reply, Ona’s eyes widened slightly: “So, your team is leaving?”

“Yes, they plan to get drunk at the hotel bar,” you explained.

The defender’s warm brown eyes twinkled with amusement: “Sounds like a solid plan.”

“I guess you’ll make it a bit more glamorous and joyful,” you commented with a smirk.

“We might,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

Clearing your throat, you asked: “Fun. No cameras here, right?”

“No, just us,” Ona confirmed.

“Good. Before I go, I’d like to do this.”

Lips touched. It had been so long since you’d had the chance to kiss each other. You both tried to capture all the yearning and longing you’d felt during the time you’d been apart in that one kiss.

As your foreheads rested against each other, your girlfriend looked at you with hopeful eyes and wanted to know: “I’ll see you at home then?”

 Yes. It’s been a long time without you,” you responded.

She sighed, confessing: “It’s been awfully long without you, too. I’m glad we at least got to have the final together.”

“Y/n! Stop kissing the enemy. It’s time to drink away our sorrows!”, Ella interrupted with a mischievous grin.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her: “She’s not the enemy anymore. I’m kissing my girlfriend. But I won’t miss out on the drinks.”

“You can kiss her more on your vacation. Come on now,” Alessia waved impatiently.

With a heavy heart, you said goodbye: “Bye, love. Can’t wait to see you when it’s not football-related.”

“Me neither,” Ona answered, reluctantly letting go of your hand. Without hesitation, the Spaniard ran to you for one final, bittersweet kiss.

Ella grimaced: “You two are disgusting.”

“Leave them alone, Ella. We all need something positive right now.”, Alessia gently touched her friend's shoulder.

“Exactly,” you paused for a moment before adding with a chuckle, “time to get drunk.”

Happily, Ella wrapped her arms around both Alessia, and you as you made your way to the hotel bar. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Maybe the final didn’t end the way you wanted it to. And yes, that was a bitter realisation. But there was a sweetness in knowing that you’d won in other, priceless ways.  

[purplereina11]

🏀 Based after Eleven 🏀

Chapter 2

It started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected-Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything.

Now it was post game meet-ups, no-strings friends-with-benefits arrangement. They shared passion, comfort, and the grind of pro sports. But as the season went on, lines blurred.

It was supported to stay simple. These things never do however. Not in professional sports. The option to stay isn't always yours.

The next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting warm streaks of gold across Alexia’s bedroom. You stirred against the crisp sheets, awareness seeping in slowly, of the warmth of her body close to yours, and the memory of how the night had unfolded. You were kissing on her sofa until the early hours, she told you to stay, no intentions. She gave you some of her clothes to wear, you got into her bed and you showed incredible restraint when your lips connected again to not go further with Alexia.

Now, tangled beneath the sheets, your body brushed against hers as you shifted. Her arm draped loosely over your waist, fingertips grazing your hip in a way that felt both casual and possessive. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you turned your head slightly, catching the soft rise and fall of her chest, the steady rhythm of her breathing brushing against your neck, it felt too easy. Too natural.

You turned slightly beneath her arm, just enough to catch a glimpse of her face. She was still asleep, hair mussed and a faint crease between her brows like she was deep in some dream. The sight made something stir low in your stomach—want, yes, but also something quieter. Softer.

You should move. Get up, maybe make coffee, put some space between you before this easy intimacy started feeling like something dangerous. But when you shifted to sit up, her grip on your waist tightened.

"Stay," Alexia murmured, her voice rough with sleep. "It’s early."

The word hit you harder than it should have. Stay. She wasn’t asking for much—just a few more stolen minutes before the rest of the world came crashing in. And maybe you wanted that, too.

So you let yourself relax back into her embrace, feeling her body press a little closer as she exhaled softly against your neck.

"You always this demanding?” you teased, your voice quiet in the hush of the room.

A lazy smile tugged at her lips. "Only when it works."

Her hand slid up your side, fingers brushing under the tee she leant you—a casual, absent-minded touch, but one that sent heat curling low in your belly. If she noticed your breath catch, she didn’t mention it. “Careful where that hand goes Putellas”

She let out a low chuckle against your neck knowing she was pushing her luck "You hungry?" she asked after a moment, her voice softer now, the teasing edge fading into something more genuine.

You tilted your head to glance back at her. "Depends. Are you gonna gloat about winning all morning if I stick around?”

Her laugh was warm against your skin, and you felt her press a quick, playful kiss to your neck. "Maybe a little."

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. "I knew letting you win was a mistake."

Alexia hummed low in her throat, shifting just enough to guide you onto your back so she could hover over you. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, and there was something in her gaze that made it very clear she wasn’t buying your bluff. "Let me?" she echoed, her lips twitching at the corners. "That’s cute."

Her hand settled against your waist again, her thumb brushing lazy circles against your skin. It was easy to get lost in the feeling of her this close, easy to forget the conversation you wanted to have with her before you delved into your ‘bit of fun’ situation ship.

And for now, you decided, maybe leaving it unsaid wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

"You’re watching me rather intently?”

Her lips curved into a lazy smile. "Maybe." Her hand slid up your waist, fingers brushing over your ribs in a slow, deliberate caress. "I wanted to make sure last night wasn’t a dream. A frustrated make out session really did happen”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to press a lingering kiss to her jaw. "I’d say it was pretty real. Probably got the mark on my neck to prove it"

Alexia’s hand trailed lower again, her touch unhurried but knowing, like she wanted to draw out the moment. "I could remind you," she offered, voice low and rough around the edges.

A shiver ran through you at the suggestion, your body already responding to the heat in her words. "Yeah? You think you’ve still got energy for that?"

Her laugh was quiet but full of promise. "You’d be surprised." She shifted suddenly, pressing her body against yours, her knee slipping between your thighs. "Unless you want me to stop."

You wrapped your arms around her, fingers threading through her hair as you pulled her closer. “You’ll be lucky.” You smirked

Alexia simply shook her head, she was certainly aware you were teasing, making her work for it. Her mouth found yours again, slower this time—but no less intent—like she wanted to savour every inch of you. The warmth of her body, the weight of her against you, made it clear there were still things left unfinished between you.

And this time, neither of you were in any hurry to stop. But neither took it past yet another make out session with a few wandering hands above your clothes, you were easing into your situation for sure. Not going in all guns blazing, if you were waiting until you felt comfortable around Alexia, that feeling had been there for a while you weren’t really sure what you were waiting for. Letting this become what you both certainly wanted, no strings attached sex. With someone who understood the pressures of your job, understood your time would be limited, that was going to be transactional and not take offence. And most importantly not talk to the press. Neither of you could chance a one night stand with a stranger.

—

Warm-ups had just started when Alexia jogged onto the field. She was focused. Serious. Until her eyes scanned the crowd, until they found you. You caught it instantly that tiny hitch in her step. That second of hesitation before she masked it with a perfectly neutral expression. But you saw it. You smirked. And you made it worse leaning back in your seat, arms crossed, giving her a look. Like you dared her to react. Alexia just exhaled sharply, shaking her head. Of course you showed up unannounced to the game the following evening to your sleepover. But her lips twitched. She was fighting the smirk. And she was losing.

The moment the game started, it was clear. She was showing off. Again. Every touch, every pass, every movement—sharp. Controlled. Calculated. She wasn’t just playing. She was performing. And it was all directed at you. Every time she did something ridiculous—a perfect assist, a slick turn past a defender—her eyes found you. Every damn time. Like she was silently asking, Enjoying the view? And the worst part? You were. But you weren’t going to let her have the satisfaction just yet. So when she glanced over after scoring, waiting for your reaction. You just tilted your head, pretending to be unimpressed. She laughed. Right there, mid-game, shook her head again, before jogging back toward the centre circle. And yeah you definitely had her attention now.

As the final whistle blew, you stood up. Alexia turned toward the stands, like she was looking for you. And that’s when you left. No goodbye. No acknowledgment. Just an exit. It was what you both did. Your phone buzzed before you even made it to your car.

Alexia: Seriously?

You smirked but didn’t reply.

You weren’t going to text her back. Not yet. Because Alexia she was expecting it. And if there was one thing you loved about this game, it was keeping her on her toes.  

So instead you pulled out your phone, opened Instagram, and posted a photo. A shot of the stadium from your seat, taken before the game started.  

Some people put on a show. Some people leave before the encore.  

No tags. No mentions. But everyone knew.

It didn’t take long for the comments to flood in.  

- Liv: Nahhh you’re actually EVIL for this

- Maya: I’m staying out of this. (But also, keep this up, it’s entertaining.)

- Fans:  

  - JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY.

  - The most unserious rivalry ever.

  - This is better than my actual love life, and I hate it.  

Alexia, she didn’t disappoint. Minutes later, she liked the post.  

Then a story update a picture of her boots, untied, like she’d just taken them off after the game.  

Some people leave. Some people finish what they started. 

You knew Alexia wouldn’t let your little stunt slide. You expected some kind of retaliation. Maybe another cryptic post. Maybe an even cockier reply. What you didn’t expect was her to show up at one of your games. With reinforcements.

It was warm-ups when you first spotted her. Not alone. Not just with teammates. No—Alexia was sitting court-side, flanked by two women. You didn’t need an introduction to know who they were. Her mother, Eli. Her sister, Alba. And Alexia looking smug. Relaxed. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. You tried to play it cool, tried to ignore the way your pulse jumped slightly at the sight of her sitting there, comfortably chatting with her family like she wasn’t openly challenging you. Like she wasn’t making this whole thing more real. And maybe that should’ve been your first clue. Because as the game started, it was clear Alexia wasn’t just here to watch. She was here to mess with you.

Every time you scored, every time you made a play, your eyes betrayed you. They flickered to her. And every time, she held your gaze. No big reaction. Just a slow, knowing smirk. Like she knew you were looking. Like she expected it. And when the buzzer sounded for halftime she did something even worse. She leaned in, said something to her mum, and Eli, laughed.

You had no idea what was said, but the damage was done. Your teammates noticed.

The moment you got to the locker room, it started.

"Okay, so we’re just gonna pretend we don’t see Alexia Putellas sitting court-side with her entire family like it’s a damn scouting report?" Liv asked sitting down in her cubby but all the other voices merged into one.

"This is a power move. I respect it."

"Are we meeting the in-laws already? Should we start planning the wedding?"

You rolled your eyes, shaking them off, but the teasing wouldn’t stop. And honestly you couldn’t even blame them. Because deep down you knew Alexia had just flipped the script on you. She wasn’t just reacting anymore. She was taking control.

But the moment the second quarter started you could feel her watching, like a presence lingering just outside your vision, daring you to look over. And when you finally did Alexia wasn’t even trying to hide her amusement, she just smirked. Casual. Relaxed. Like this was all just a fun little experiment to see how you’d react. Her mother and sister appeared they were in on it.

You didn’t know how, but every time something happened—every time you scored or made a big play—Alexia leaned in, said something to them, and they laughed. Not in a bad way. But in a way.  Like they were entertained. Like you were the show and if they thought you wouldn’t rise to the occasion, they had another thing coming.

If Alexia wanted to see something, you were damn well going to give her a reason to watch. You locked in. Hard. Every drive, every shot, every defensive play—sharp. Clean. Focused. And every time you knew she was looking, you made it count. A no-look pass that got your teammates hyped. A fadeaway jumper right as the shot clock expired. A statement block that had the crowd on their feet. You didn’t need to say anything. You let the game talk for you. And when you glanced at her after hitting a deep three, just before the end of the third quarter.

She finally reacted.

A small, knowing nod. Like she was acknowledging the game you were playing—both on and off the court. It happened in the fourth quarter. Tensions were high, the game was close, and the physicality had been increasing. You had just fought through a screen when your defender got way too close, lowering their voice so only you could hear.

"Bet Putellas is loving this view. Wonder if she’s here for the game or just for you. All these fans are certainly only here because of your online bullshit”

It wasn’t the worst thing someone had ever said to you on the court. But the smirk that followed, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Yeah.

That did it.

Your response was immediate.

A shove.

Not hard enough to drop them, but hard enough to send a clear message. And just like that, the whistle blew. Technical foul. And worse? Your coach was furious.

“Y/N” Your coach yelled, “Bench! Now!

You didn’t even argue when they subbed you out. You just ripped off your shirt, jaw tight, frustration rolling off you as you sank onto the bench. And, of course Alexia was right there. One row behind, just to your left. Close enough that you could feel her eyes on you. She didn’t say anything. Not right away. But you knew she wanted to. You were still gripping your knees, trying to calm yourself down, when her voice finally cut through the noise.

"You done pouting?"

You exhaled sharply, finally turning your head to look at her. She was amused. Annoyingly so. Like this was the most entertaining thing she had seen all night. You inhaled deeply, shaking out your hands, still annoyed. Still heated. But if Alexia thought she could sit there all smug and entertained, like this was her own personal comedy show, yeah, no. Not happening.  

You turned your head just enough to meet her gaze, eyes sharp, tone flat. "Didn’t know you liked watching me suffer, Putellas."

Alexia’s lips twitched, just slightly, like she was enjoying this way too much. "Depends," she mused, tilting her head. "Is this suffering, or just a bruised ego?"

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head, but you weren’t about to let her get the upper hand. So you leaned back slightly, matching her energy. "You tell me, since you seem to be analysing me so much."

That got her. A hint of surprise flickered in her eyes before she recovered, smirking again. "Someone has to keep you in check."

You arched a brow. "That your job now?" 

She just shrugged. "No one else is doing it."

Before you could fire off another retort, your coach called your name. You were checking back in. You stood up, shaking off the tension, but not before glancing back at her one last time pulling a fresh jersey over your torso. "Enjoy the rest of the game, Putellas." 

Alexia smirked, completely unbothered. "I already am."

And with that you ran back onto the court, but your mind was still on her.

You saw her the moment you stepped off the court at the end of the game, Alexia. Waiting. Right by the tunnel entrance. She wasn’t hiding, wasn’t trying to be subtle. She was there, standing with her arms crossed, expression unreadable but her eyes were locked right on you. 

And this time you didn’t walk past. This time you stopped. You could feel the cameras flashing. Could hear the murmurs from the crowd still lingering in the arena. But none of that mattered. Not when Alexia was looking at you like this. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.  

"You played well," she said, voice casual, but there was something behind it. Something teasing.  

You tilted your head, wiping sweat from your brow with the edge of your jersey. "Just well?" 

Alexia smirked. "Wouldn’t want to inflate your ego too much."

That made you huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "And here I was thinking you came down here to compliment me." 

She shrugged. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d stop this time." 

And yeah that got you. You lowered your head briefly to breathe out a laugh. Because she was right. You had stopped. And now the entire internet was losing its mind.  

You barely made it to the locker room before your phone started blowing up. Clips of the moment were already circulating. Slow-motion replays. Zoomed-in screenshots.  

The Headlines:

🔥 Superstar Standoff? Alexia Putellas & [Your Name] Share an Exchange Post-Game 

👀 The Tension Is Real—Alexia Waits, [Your Name] Stops, and the Internet Can’t Cope

⚡ More Than a Game? The Barcelona Duo Everyone’s Talking About

And of course, Alexia had to fuel the fire.  

She posted a photo not of you two, but a blurry crowd-shot from the moment.  

No caption.  

Just a single 👀 emoji.  

So, naturally you had to respond. The moment you saw Alexia’s 👀 post, you didn’t hesitate.  

You hit the comments and typed—  

You: "You could’ve just said you missed me, Putellas."  

And just like that the internet exploded.  

"OH. MY. GOD. DID THEY JUST—"

"This is NOT a drill. They are FLIRTING in PUBLIC."

"Someone check on Alexia, she wasn’t ready for this level of boldness."

"At this point, just announce the wedding date."

Even your own teammates weren’t letting this slide.  

A few of them had jumped in the replies instantly—  

Claudia: Nah, you didn’t just say that 😭

Liv: I WAS COURT SIDE. I SAW THIS LIVE. I CAN’T BREATHE.  

And then Alexia responded.

Not with words. But with a single, simple reply—  

Alexia: Careful what you wish for.

The kind of response that had everyone losing their minds.  

Because what did she mean by that? Was she teasing you back?  Was she accepting the challenge?  Because at this point you felt like you were going in circles with her. 

Your notifications were still going crazy when a new message popped up.  

Alexia: You enjoying this?  

You smirked, typing back.  

You: Aren’t you?

A few seconds passed.

Alexia: I guess we’ll see.  

Oh, she was playing now.  

And you loved it.  

You stared at Alexia’s message for a moment.  

I guess we’ll see.  

You weren’t about to let her get away with that vague, teasing, mystery act.  

So you typed back  

You: See what, exactly?  

And then you doubled down.  

You: Say what you mean, Putellas.

You put your phone down, not expecting an immediate response.  

Less than a minute later, your phone buzzed again.  

Alexia: I mean, you want me to say I want you? 

Oh. 

Oh, she was really going there. But you weren’t done yet.  

You: If it’s true, yeah.  

Alexia: Maybe I do 

And just like that your entire mood shifted because the teasing was still there, sure, but this wasn’t just playful anymore.  

This was real.

That wasn’t enough.  

Not after weeks of teasing, of games, of her always managing to stay one step ahead.  

So you pushed.  

You: Maybe isn’t an answer, Alexia.  

You knew exactly what you were doing. You never used her first name. And based on the three dots that appeared instantly so did she. 

She was typing.  

Then she stopped.  

Then she started again.  

Then she stopped again.

Oh, she was struggling. Which meant you were winning.  

Finally, your phone buzzed.  

Alexia: Fine.

Alexia: I want you. 

Three words. But they hit hard.  

You could feel the shift. The teasing wasn’t gone, not completely—but this was different. And if she was finally admitting it… then maybe it was time to do the same.  

But you weren’t about to make it that easy for her.   

You: Was that so hard?  

Another pause.  

Alexia: Don’t get used to it.  

Oh, you were definitely getting used to it.  

You knew you should let it go. Should let her little confession sit—let her stew in it. But you’d never been good at backing down, especially not when it came to her.

So when your phone buzzed again with another message from Alexia, you couldn’t resist.

Alexia: Still there? Or did I scare you off?

You smirked, shaking your head. If she thought she could rattle you, she had another thing coming.

You: You couldn’t scare me off if you tried.

Her reply came quicker this time.

Alexia: Good.

And that one-word answer? Yeah, it did something to you.

You didn’t overthink it—you never did when it came to her. Instead, you pushed off your bed, grabbed your keys, and walked out the door.

Because if Alexia wanted to play? You were done playing through a screen.

It started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected-Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything.

Now it was post game meet-ups, no-strings friends-with-benefits arrangement. They shared passion, comfort, and the grind of pro sports. But as the season went on, lines blurred.

It was supported to stay simple. These things never do however. Not in professional sports. The option to stay isn't always yours.

It was late. Too late for a casual visit—but that didn’t stop you from parking in front of her place. You barely hesitated before knocking on the door. One beat. Two. And then the door swung open, and there she was. Loose shorts, an oversized hoodie, and that same cocky tilt to her mouth like she knew exactly why you were here. Knew you were coming.

"Took you long enough," Alexia murmured, leaning against the frame.

You didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, you stepped forward, closing the space between you. Your gaze dropped to her lips, and for the first time since this whole thing started, you stopped holding back.

"I’m done texting," you said, voice low. "Say it to my face."

Her smirk faltered—just for a second. "Say what?"

You tilted your head, eyes locked on hers. "That you want me."

For a breathless moment, Alexia just stared at you like she was weighing her options, deciding whether to cross that last invisible line between teasing and something real. And then she did. "I want you," she admitted quietly, her voice softer than you expected. And that was all you needed.

You didn’t think—you just moved.

Your hand brushed against her jaw as you leaned in, and the second your lips met hers, everything else faded. No more teasing. No more pretending it was just an idea. This was real. Alexia kissed you back—fierce, unyielding—like she had been waiting for this just as much as you had. And when she pulled you inside, her hands fisting the front of your hoodie, there was no denying it anymore. Whatever this was between you? It wasn’t just a game. It was something much, much more.

Her apartment was dimly lit just the faint glow of the city outside filtering through the windows but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was her. The way she tugged you inside, her body pressing into yours like she couldn’t stand the distance anymore. She backed you against the wall, her hands braced on either side of your head kicking the door shut. "You always this bossy?" you murmured, brushing your lips along her jaw.

Alexia’s breath hitched. "You love it."

She wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t letting her have all the control. Your fingers traced the hem of her hoodie, sliding underneath to find warm skin. "Maybe," you admitted, leaning closer, "but I think you love it more when I push back."

A challenge. And from the fire that flared in her eyes, she was ready to meet it. "Prove it," she whispered.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your mouth found hers again, deeper this time—hungrier. And when her hands slipped under your hoodie, dragging you closer, any last shred of hesitation vanished. She wanted this. Wanted you. And you were done pretending you didn’t want her just as badly.

It was reckless. It was inevitable. And when Alexia pulled you toward her bedroom, her fingers tangled with yours, you knew there was no turning back.

"You sure?" you asked, breathless against her lips, giving her one last out.

Alexia just laughed softly, shaking her head. "I’m not the one who showed up at my door, am I?"

Fair point. So you followed her—let her pull you into the dark, where there were no more rules. No more pretending.

Just you and her, crossing every line you swore in the beginning you wouldn’t.

The air between you was thick—charged with everything you had both said and everything you hadn’t.  

With a decisive move, she closed the gap between you, her mouth crushing into yours. The kiss was electric, sending a current down your spine. It had been building for weeks, and now it was happening. Her hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you felt yourself giving in, your body responding to hers.

The door handle dug into your back as she pushed you against it, her tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring every inch. You moaned into the kiss, feeling your resolve crumble. This was what you wanted—what you needed. And as her hands began to wander, you knew there was no going back.

The sound of your hoodie zipping down was loud in the quiet room, a stark contrast to the softness of your skin as she peeled it away. You shivered under her touch, your breath hitching as her hands slid up your sides, the warmth of her palms leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Alexia broke the kiss, her eyes searching yours. "Is this okay?" she whispered, her breath hot against your neck.

You nodded, unable to find the words. The anticipation was too much, the need too strong. You didn't know what to expect, but you were ready for whatever came next.

Her fingers brushed over the bare skin of your stomach, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You reached for her, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned her shirt, feeling the heat of her body under the fabric.

Her skin was smooth and warm under your touch, and you took a moment to drink in the sight of her, the way the light hit her curves, the way she watched you with a mix of hunger and vulnerability.

"Take it off," you murmured, your voice husky.

With a smoldering look, Alexia shrugged out of her shirt, revealing a lacy black bra that barely contained her. You reached out, your fingertips brushing over the fabric, feeling the hardened nipples beneath. She gasped, arching into your touch.

You didn't know where this was going to lead, but as your hands traced the lace of her bra, the only thing that mattered was the here and now. Her skin was soft and warm under your fingertips, her breathing quickening as you explored. The room was a cocoon of desire, the outside world forgotten.

Alexia reached behind her, her eyes never leaving yours, and unclipped the bra. It fell away, revealing her breasts, perfect and full, with nipples that begged for your attention. You leaned in, capturing one in your mouth, feeling her shudder at the contact. She tasted like sweetness and salt, like the promise of a storm.

Her hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. The coolness of the room was a shock against your skin, but it was quickly forgotten as her hands roamed over you, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Her mouth followed, kissing a line down your neck, her teeth grazing your collarbone. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

Your jeans felt too tight, too restrictive, as you stepped closer to her. You needed to be closer, needed to feel her skin against yours. With trembling fingers, you unbuttoned and unzipped them, letting them fall to the floor. Alexia's eyes raked over you, her own need evident in the way she bit her bottom lip.

"Your turn," you said, your voice a demand and a plea all at once.

She stepped out of her own pants, leaving just the scrap of fabric that barely covered her. You stepped closer, sliding your hand under the waistband of her underwear, feeling the wetness that had pooled there. She was as eager as you were. With one swift motion, you tugged them down, leaving her bare before you.

You took a moment to admire her, the way the light painted shadows on her curves, the way she looked at you with a mix of desire and something deeper—something you hadn't dared to hope for.

And then, with a hunger that had been building for too long, you kissed her again, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces that had finally found their match. Your hands found their way to her breasts, teasing the nipples, feeling them harden further under your touch.

Alexia's hands slid down your back, her nails digging in, guiding you to the bed. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but you didn't rush, enjoying every moment of this dance, every touch that brought you closer.

On the bed, you took your time, exploring each other's bodies like a new continent. You kissed her neck, her collarbones, the soft skin of her breasts. You licked and sucked, listening to the sounds she made, learning what she liked and what made her arch off the bed.

Her hands found your hips, guiding you, urging you closer. You slid a leg between hers, feeling the heat of her core against your thigh. She was wet, and the feeling was intoxicating.

With a gentle push, Alexia rolled you onto your back, her body hovering over yours. She kissed her way down your stomach, her breath hot against your skin. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every inch she descended, the anticipation building into a crescendo.

And when her mouth finally found your center, your hips jerked up off the bed. She took her time, licking and teasing until you were writhing beneath her, begging for more. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

Her tongue was a masterpiece, stroking and flicking until you were close to the edge. And when she slipped a finger inside you, you couldn't hold back any longer. You came with a cry that filled the room, your body shaking with the force of it.

Alexia looked up at you, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Was that what you needed?"

"More," you begged, your voice barely a whisper.

With a laugh that sent shivers down your spine, she climbed up your body, her soft curves pressing against yours. You could feel her own arousal, hot and slick between your legs.

Her mouth found yours again, and you kissed with a desperation that had no end. Your hands roamed over her, feeling the contours of her body, the softness of her skin. You needed to taste her, to explore her the way she had done to you.

You rolled her onto her back, your legs straddling her hips. Her eyes were dark with desire as you slid down, your mouth leaving a trail of kisses down her stomach, your tongue dipping into her belly button.

And when your mouth found her center, she gasped, her hands fisting in the sheets. You took your time, exploring with your tongue, finding the spot that made her hips buck. The way she reacted to your touch was addictive, and you felt a thrill of power as she moaned and squirmed beneath you.

Your own desire was building again, the pressure building in your chest, in your core. You kissed her harder, your breath mingling with hers as she began to come apart. Her thighs tightened around your head, and you knew you had her.

You didn't stop until she was shaking, her cries echoing in your ears. Only then did you pull back, looking up to see the ecstasy on her face, the way her eyes had gone hazy with pleasure.

The room was still, the only sound your ragged breathing. You collapsed beside her.

"Wow," Alexia murmured, her voice still thick with passion. "That was…"

"Yeah," you said, unable to find the words. It was more than you had ever imagined.

You laid there, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. You had crossed a line. But as you felt the warmth of her body against yours, you knew it was a line you would cross again and again.

The night was young, and there were so many more places to explore, so many more secret pleasures to share. But for now, you were content to just lie there, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through you, basking in the glow of this newfound connection.

The air was heavy with the promise of more, and you both knew it was only the beginning of something that had been simmering between you for far too long.

Lying there in the soft, tangled sheets of Alexia’s bed, you could still feel the phantom burn of her touch against your skin. The city lights spilled faintly through the window, casting fractured patterns across her face as she lay beside you.  

Quiet. Too quiet.

"You’re thinking too hard," Alexia murmured, her voice husky in the dark. Her fingers brushed softly against your arm, but her tone—yeah, that still had its usual edge.  

You turned your head to meet her gaze. "Maybe I’m just wondering if I should’ve made you work a little harder for it."  

That earned you a soft laugh, low and indulgent. "Please. We both know you wanted this as much as I did."  

You should’ve known she’d say something like that. Alexia wasn’t the type to second-guess herself—not with you, not with anything. Still, the heat hadn’t faded completely. It hummed beneath your skin, making it impossible to ignore the fact that nothing between you would be the same after tonight. And the craziest part? You weren’t sure you wanted it to be. “You always this cocky after?" you teased, your fingers tracing idle patterns against her thigh.  

Alexia arched a brow, but there was something softer in her expression when she answered. "Only when I’m right."  

The silence stretched, but this time it wasn’t heavy—it just was. Easy, in a way nothing with her should be. "You’re not freaking out," you observed.  

She rolled onto her side, propping her head against her hand. "Why would I? I wanted you. I got you. Seems simple enough."  

"Simple," you echoed, like the word tasted foreign on your tongue. Because there was nothing simple about what had been building between you, not for weeks, maybe longer.  

Her smile curved slow and dangerous. "Unless you want to make it complicated."  

—

By the time the sun crept over the horizon, you were already too far gone.  

Alexia was still asleep, her breath slow and steady, one arm flung lazily across your waist. It would’ve been easy—too easy—to close your eyes and let yourself sink back into that warmth. But you? You weren’t built for easy.  

Slipping out of bed, you grabbed your hoodie and tugged it over your head, your heart pounding a little too fast as you crossed her bedroom and leaned against the doorframe.  

It should’ve felt like a victory—you had won, hadn’t you? Pushed past her defences. Made her admit she wanted you.

So why did it feel like the game was only just getting started?  

You were halfway out of her bedroom when her voice stopped you cold.  

"You leaving already?" You turned, finding her wide awake now—messy hair, sleepy eyes, but nothing about her looked uncertain. If anything, she seemed amused. "Didn’t think you were the type to sneak out," she added, her tone too casual to be innocent.  

"I’m not sneaking," you shot back, leaning against the wall. "I just figured you’d want me gone before your ego got too attached."  

Alexia laughed under her breath, stretching out across the bed like she owned every inch of it. "Cute. But don’t fool yourself, you’re the one who showed up at my door."  

And yeah, that was fair. Still, something about the way she looked at you—like she wasn’t done yet—had you hesitating longer than you should’ve.  

"You gonna stand there all morning, or are you coming back to bed?"  

You should’ve walked out. Should’ve left while you still could. But instead, you pushed off the wall, letting the door swing shut behind you. Because when it came to Alexia you never did know when to quit. You straddled her leaning over her holding eye contact as she smirked in victory, “I have to be at training in an hour”

“I can make you come 6 times before then”

“Oh you’re so confident Putellas” her hand moved to push your hoodie up

“Tell me you don’t believe me” she spoke with a glint in her eye which you should of known better than to challenge

You kissed her slow the way you learned quickly that made her feral for you, “I don’t believe you” You giggled as the world spun and you were on your back her hovering over you, “You’re so easy to wind up”

Alexia’s eyes appeared holding yours a finger over your lips, “All I want to her from your lips is either you moaning how good it is or you screaming my name.. got it?”

“So so demanding” you mumbled against her finger, she cocked an eyebrow, “Si Capitana” you smirked as she rolled her eyes at you.

She chuckled, and the tension snapped like a whip. She removed her finger from your mouth and leaned back, and for a moment you thought she was going to let you up. But then she reached down and slid her hand under the waistband of your pants, her fingers finding their way to that sensitive spot that made you gasp. Your eyes went wide with surprise, and she took advantage of it, silencing you with a knowing smile.

Her touch was featherlight at first, teasing circles that grew tighter and more insistent with every second that ticked by. You felt your body arch up off the bed, a silent plea for more. The fabric of her hoodie was rough against your skin, the contrast making every sensation sharper. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, not wanting to give her the satisfaction just yet. But Alexia knew your body better than you did. She knew where to touch, how much pressure to apply, to keep you balancing on the edge of pleasure and pain.

Her eyes never left yours as she worked her magic. You could see the smug satisfaction in them, the way they darkened with every hitch of your breath. Her thumb found your clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate strokes that had you seeing stars. Your hands clenched the bed sheets, your knuckles turning white with the effort of staying silent. It was a battle of wills, but one you knew you were destined to lose. The room grew smaller, the air hotter, until all you could focus on was the building pressure between your legs.

With a sudden jolt, she pushed two fingers inside you, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. It was everything you had been craving, everything you had been denied. Your hips bucked up to meet her hand, seeking more of that sweet friction. She didn't disappoint, her movements quickening as she watched your face contort with pleasure. Her other hand found your breast, her thumb flicking your nipple, sending waves of sensation through your body. It was too much, and you knew she was going to win this round. But as the first orgasm began to build, you felt a thrill of victory knowing you had pushed her this far, made her want you so badly she couldn't resist.

The world fell away as Alexia's fingers worked their magic, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of her inside you. The tension grew until you couldn't hold it anymore, and with a strangled cry, you shattered beneath her touch. It was everything you had hoped for and more, your body writhing with pleasure as she held you through it, her eyes never leaving yours.

When the last tremor passed, she leaned down and kissed you, hard and deep. "I'll take that as a yes," she murmured against your lips. You could only nod, too spent to form words.

But as she began to move away, you grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down. "We're not done yet," you breathed. "We still have fifty-five minutes." And with that, the game was on.

—

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

You groaned, collapsing onto your couch after basketball practice. Pulling out your phone, you stared at the screen, eyes widening at the flood of notifications.

A grainy photo had surfaced online—capturing you leaving Alexia’s apartment that morning. After months of speculation, the fans had finally gotten their proof.

The headlines were everywhere:

"Alexia Putellas and Basketball Star [Your Name] Confirm Relationship?"

The comments exploded beneath:

Fan: "WE’VE WAITED FOREVER FOR THIS!"

Fan: "FINALLY. Maybe now we can all get some peace."

Fan: "About time you two stopped distracting everyone."

You shook your head, lips curving into an amused smile. The internet had always loved speculating about you two, but now they were losing their minds.

Your phone vibrated again—a message from Alexia:

Alexia: Looks like we broke the internet.

You smiled, typing back without hesitation.

You: We always do.

Your phone buzzed during breakfast, Alexia’s name lighting up your screen again:

Alexia: You left your hoodie at mine.

You smiled, amused.

You: Interesting how hoodies keep getting left behind lately.

Alexia: What can I say? We’re forgetful.

You knew exactly what this meant—another subtle invitation, another perfect excuse. Since neither of you would admit again to actually enjoying seeing each other. You had to have excuses and of course things always lead to another. Whilst your together may as well get another transaction in. Of course.

A moment later, another message appeared:

Alexia: Practice ends early today. Want me to drop it off?

Your heartbeat quickened, fingertips hovering over the screen. The casual question was anything but innocent, and you both knew it.

You: Come whenever. I’ll be home.

She replied almost immediately, playful yet undeniably flirtatious:

Alexia: Count on it.

—

A few hours later, the knock at your door sent your pulse racing. Opening it, you found Alexia standing there, hoodie draped casually over one arm, an irresistible smirk on her lips.

“You know,” she began, stepping forward and slipping inside before you could say anything, “We’re running out of hoodies.”

You laughed softly, closing the door behind her. “Guess we’ll need a new excuse soon.”

She turned to face you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or we could stop needing excuses at all.”

Your smile widened, heart thudding louder as the distance between you vanished. Her fingers brushed yours gently, warmth radiating through you both.

“You make a good point,” you whispered, lips inches apart.

“I usually do,” Alexia teased softly, closing the gap and kissing you slowly, deeply every hesitation gone, replaced with certainty and passion.

When you pulled apart, breathless, foreheads resting together, she murmured, “At this rate, we'll have to explain why our closets have merged.”

You chuckled, brushing your thumb lightly across her cheek. “Let them figure it out.”

Alexia smiled, leaning in again. “Fine.”

—

Warm sunlight streamed through your window, gently waking you both. Alexia shifted beside you, stretching lazily beneath the sheets, hair spilling across your pillow. She sighed, glancing reluctantly at the clock.

“I have to go soon,” she murmured softly, regret colouring her voice. “Practice.”

You reached out, fingers trailing down her bare back, enjoying the way she shivered slightly at your touch.

“So soon?” you teased gently, leaning closer to kiss her shoulder. “We’re just getting started.”

She laughed quietly, eyes full of amusement and lingering desire. “You say that every time.”

“Because every time,” you murmured, kissing the curve of her neck, “it’s true.”

Alexia rolled onto her back, looking up at you with a playful challenge in her eyes. “Practice ends around four. Then what?”

You grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a slow, teasing kiss. Pulling away just enough to meet her gaze again, you whispered, “Then you come straight back here. I’m not finished with you yet.”

She smirked, fingertips dancing lightly over your chest. “Is that a request or a demand?”

“Both,” you replied without hesitation, voice low and confident.

Alexia laughed softly, pulling you in for another lingering kiss before finally sliding out of bed, gathering her clothes from the floor. She paused at the doorway, looking back with a teasing smile.

“I’ll hurry back.”

“You better,” you called after her, settling comfortably into the warmth she’d left behind. “We have unfinished business.”

She winked, blowing you a playful kiss. “I’m counting on it.”

—

You were still damp from your shower, walking around your apartment in nothing but a loosely wrapped towel when you heard the door quietly click open. Without knocking, Alexia stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. The ease with which she let herself in brought an amused smile to your face.

“You’re just letting yourself in now?” you teased lightly, turning around to face her, arms crossed casually.

She leaned back against the door, her gaze immediately taking in your appearance. Her eyes darkened, a hungry smirk forming as she let them trail slowly down your body, lingering deliberately. “You did say to hurry back,” she replied smoothly, her voice edged with playful confidence. “Thought I’d skip formalities.”

You laughed softly, stepping closer, noticing the subtle hitch in her breath as your bare skin brushed against her when you reached past to lock the door properly. “Good decision,” you murmured, voice low and teasing.

Alexia’s fingers traced lightly along the edge of your towel, her eyes still exploring your figure. “Were you expecting me, or is this how you always welcome visitors?”

“Only certain ones,” you whispered, leaning in so your lips were barely an inch apart. Her breath quickened, eyes fixed on yours, full of anticipation.

“Then I feel special,” she said softly, lips brushing yours with each word.

“You should,” you replied, kissing her deeply, savouring the way she melted instantly into your touch.

As the kiss broke, she tugged playfully at your towel, voice thick with desire. “But you know, walking around like this is incredibly distracting.”

You smiled wickedly, deliberately letting the towel slip slightly lower on your body exposing the top half of you. “Who said that wasn’t the point?”

Alexia groaned softly, hands tightening on your waist. “You’re killing me.”

You leaned in close, lips brushing her ear. “Good thing I have all night to make it up to you.” You let the towel drop completely pooling at your feet.

With a heated gaze, she pulled you toward the bedroom, voice low and filled with promise. “Then let's get started.”

—-

You walked casually through the supermarket aisles, basket swinging loosely from your hand as you debated between pasta sauces. You weren't paying much attention until you rounded a corner and nearly collided into someone.

“Oh, sorry—” you began, stopping abruptly when you saw a familiar face.

Alexia stood before you, eyes wide with surprise, a quick smile tugging at her lips. Beside her stood her sister, Alba, whose eyebrows shot upward with immediate amusement.

“Well, look who it is,” Alba teased playfully, nudging Alexia’s arm. “What are the odds?”

You smiled easily, quickly regaining your composure. “Small world, huh?”

Alexia shook her head slightly, cheeks turning faintly pink, clearly entertained by the unexpected run-in. “Very small.”

Her gaze flicked briefly downward, clearly recalling the last time she'd seen you—far less clothed than you were now. You bit back a grin, watching her struggle to maintain a casual expression.

Alexia’s sister glanced between you both, clearly sensing something more in the air. “So, shopping alone? Or…” she teased knowingly.

You chuckled, appreciating her bluntness. “Just picking up a few things. But the surprise was definitely worth it.”

Alexia smiled shyly, shooting you a playful warning look. “Behave.”

Alba laughed, clearly intrigued by your exchange. “You two seem very...friendly.”

“Just friends,” Alexia said, quickly trying to downplay it, though her gaze told a different story.

You nodded, deciding to play along for now, even though the memory of her tangled in your sheets the evening prior still lingered vividly. “Friendly is one word for it.”

Alexia bit her lip, stifling a laugh as Alba raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“Right,” Alba said slowly, amusement lacing her tone. “Well, I’ll let you two ‘friends’ finish your conversation.”

As she moved ahead, Alexia stepped closer, lowering her voice with a teasing smirk. “You enjoyed that a little too much.”

You shrugged innocently, leaning toward her just slightly. “What? I’m just friendly.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re trouble.”

“Yet you keep coming back,” you whispered playfully, eyes sparkling.

“Clearly,” she conceded, unable to hide the soft laughter bubbling from her lips. She glanced ahead at her sister, who was now waiting impatiently. “I should go.”

“See you tonight?” you asked casually, eyebrow raised in anticipation.

Alexia grinned, nodding her head fondly. “You shouldn’t of even had to ask.”

As she walked away, you called out teasingly, “Don’t forget your hoodie.”

She glanced over her shoulder, laughing openly now. “I'll bring yours too.”

—

You'd barely set your grocery bags down at home when your phone vibrated again—Alexia, right on cue.

Alexia: My sister won’t stop asking about you.

You laughed softly, typing quickly as you unpacked your groceries.

You: I have that effect on people.

Alexia: Oh, I noticed. Especially when you shop in low cut tops

You smirked at the memory of Alexia’s lingering gaze in the supermarket.

You: Should I apologise?

Alexia: Definitely not. But now she suspects we’re more than just ‘friends’ who flirt online.

Your smile widened as you remembered Alba’s playful suspicion.

You: Maybe you should tell her.

There was a brief pause before Alexia replied.

Alexia: Tell her what? That we can’t keep our hands off each other?

You chuckled, your pulse quickening at her boldness.

You: Exactly. Or should we keep letting her think I’m fucking my sister in law?

Another pause, then her reply came through, teasing and flirtatious.

Alexia: Depends. In that scenario does she fuck better than me?

Your grin widened as you tapped out your response.

You: Not a chance

Before you could set your phone down, she was already replying:

Alexia: Good. Then come over to my place tonight. Bring dessert.

You smiled, warmth flooding your chest as you quickly typed back.

You: I’ll bring dessert, but you’re the only thing I plan on eating.

Her response was immediate, less playful and full of demands:

Alexia: Come now

—

You knocked once before letting yourself in—turnabout fair play, after all—and found Alexia curled comfortably on her couch, eyes fixed on the TV, a half-smile playing on her lips.

“You know, for someone who tries to avoid the gossip, you sure seem invested,” you teased, setting down a box of pastries on her kitchen counter.

She turned her head, eyes lighting up when she saw you. “I wasn’t exactly expecting you yet. Thought you’d be fashionably late.”

“Missed me that much?” you smirked, walking closer as she rolled her eyes affectionately when you in a recent game was on her television.

“Maybe just a little,” she admitted softly, pulling you down beside her. She gestured toward the screen. “Apparently we’re the hottest topic in sports right now.”

You glanced up, amused by the headline flashing across the screen:

Basketball Star and Alexia Putellas Spotted Together AGAIN!

“You’d think they’d find something new to talk about,” you mused, “This is getting repetitive.”

She leaned into you, laughing softly. “Oh, I don’t know. I think they’re just catching up to the obvious.”

Your fingertips traced gentle circles on her forearm, feeling her relax against you. She laughed, eyes sparkling, but then softened, running her fingers slowly along your thigh up and down. “You know, I kind of like our little secret.”

You smiled gently, understanding what she meant. “Now, about that dessert you asked for—”

She grinned, tugging you off the couch, laughter bubbling from her lips. “Dessert can wait.”

The TV continued quietly in the background, gossip fading into insignificance. Right now, nothing else mattered but each other. As you shed clothes hands roaming freely you hoped to sit on the edge of the dining table pulling her close

“Here?” She mumbled between kissing

You pulled her shirt off over her head “Have some adventure Putellas” You began giggling when Alexia smacked her head of the lamp hanging over the table, it soon faded to a moan when Alexia did exactly what you loved.

You let your hand hold the back of her head as her mouth closed around you nipple just as her fingers entered you and a jolt of electricity shoots through you, reigniting the fire that's barely dimmed. You’re lost in the feel of her, in the dizzying sweetness of it all.

“Oh god—Alexia,” her name is a gasp as she finds a rhythm that makes everything else fall away. She’s pressing close again, mouth warm against your breasts, and the hum of pleasure is so intense it’s almost too much.

The sound of keys dropping onto the floor broke through the haze of your heated moment, snapping both you and Alexia back to reality.

"Oh my—Alexia?! Are you kidding me?" Alba's voice shrieked in shock, her face turning bright red as she stood frozen at the apartment entrance, eyes wide with embarrassment.

You both jolted upright instantly, scrambling to cover yourselves. Alexia hastily pulled your shirt up to cover your body, her face flushed deep crimson. Your heart hammered in your chest, mortified at the unexpected intrusion.

"Alba—I—I thought you'd text first!" Alexia stammered, voice trembling with humiliation.

"I did! Clearly you were busy!" Alba exclaimed, quickly spinning around to face the opposite direction, covering her eyes dramatically. "Oh my god, I can't un-see that!"

You hastily pulled on your sweatpants, face burning hot. "I—I'm so sorry. I'll—I’ll just go."

"Probably best," Alba muttered, refusing to turn around, clearly still in shock.

Alexia met your eyes apologetically, biting her lip nervously. "I'll text you later."

"Right," you responded, voice shaky and awkward. "Sorry again, Alba."

"Please don't speak," Alba said desperately. "I'm trying very hard to erase this from my memory."

You quickly grabbed your shoes and jacket, stumbling awkwardly past Alba, your cheeks burning hotter as she pointedly stared at the wall, refusing to glance in your direction.

As you slipped out the front door, you heard Alexia’s embarrassed voice attempting an apology to her sister.

"Alba, I'm really sorry—"

"Don't," Alba groaned dramatically. "We're burning that table."

You hurried down the hall, fighting back the mixture of embarrassment and laughter threatening to overwhelm you. It would be a long while before you could face Alba again—let alone look at Alexia’s dining room table without blushing.

[kokokoula]

drunk confessions

a/n: wow i haven't posted in a long while hahaha thanks for staying :) i'm so burnt out from exams please tolerate me🥲 again, not beta read, my beta reader is busy as heck because of a hellish sch system. also, i wrote all of this at 3am, i hope it's still readable TT (this is obvi in timeskip no underage drinking guys)

---

"i think i love you."

you rest your head on your palm, gazing at him with soft eyes and warm cheeks. you reek of alcohol; tsukishima doesn't seem to care.

the two of you sit by the bar at the far end, where the light jazz music gets faint. he's thinking clearly, only a bit red from a drink or two— or is it something else?— while you're flat out drunk. his eyes widen slightly at your confession, and pauses.

"don't say things you don't mean." tsukishima eventually brushes you off, pushing his glasses further up. despite that, his heart beats a little faster, and he hates it.

you splay out your arms across the countertop, burying your face in them. he takes the last swig of his drink. there is the distant sound of glasses clinking and a cheer.

"tsukki?" his name is a bit slurred as you turn to him again. your hair is in a tangled mess, locks of it falling over your eyes. he resists the urge to tuck them away and behind your ear.

tsukishima nudges your foot: a sign to continue.

"y'know, when i first met you, i thought you were an arrogant, self-centred bastard. i hated you." you state, fiddling with your empty shot glass. wow, and just when he thought things were getting intimate.

"where exactly are you going with this?" he frowns at you.

"we used to bicker about almost everything at school. i can't count how many times yamaguchi had to step in." you giggle, hiccuping at the end. you didn't seem to have heard him but he doesn't mind. he shakes his head, a small smile appearing on his face; you look so cute being lost in your own world.

"remember it was our last class, and it happened to rain that day? you laughed at me because i didn't bring an umbrella." yes, he remembers. tadashi was sick that day, and the both of you ended up getting lectured many times by teachers for your incessant arguments. he almost chuckles at the thought of it.

"i didn't expect to find your umbrella in my shoe locker after you left, though. you said you had an extra when i confronted you about it but yamaguchi already told me you had returned home drenched." tsukishima's face starts to burn. shit, being reminded of how down bad he was—and still is— is embarrassing. he wishes he was much cooler about it.

"i couldn't accept that you were capable of being nice, let alone to me..." it's even more so because of you.

"...till i realised you're nothing like what i thought you were. you admit your own faults, are too hard on yourself, and incredibly encouraging of your friends in your own complicated way. hell, even to hinata and kageyama!" you're sitting upright now, your hands making exaggerated movements as you talk. you take a deep breath in.

"it's your fault that i can't stop thinking about you, and that i get so sickeningly happy when i see you. so shuddup, i do mean it when i said i think, no wait, i know i love you." you rebuke him, pointing your finger at him like an angry child.

you have done it. you've lit his face on fire with your words. he can't tear his eyes away from your piercing gaze.

tsukishima isn't the most affectionate person, but maybe it's the late hour, or the influence of the alcohol, because he reaches over to caress the back of your head and bring you closer to him. his lips softly presses against your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away. he sees your eyes sparkle.

since kei believes actions speak louder than words, he hopes you know that this, everything, means something to him.

bonus