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theemporium · 1 day ago

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[6.1k] most of the league welcome a bye week as all-stars hits the season calendar. with both brothers picked and the rest of the boys on the team flying out somewhere warm for the break, luke has a decision to make. and that decision ends up being a staycation in new jersey with you—not that anyone else in his life really understand why. (smut)

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“Whoever is in charge of this schedule sounds like a sadist.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” You repeated with a small huff, staring down at your phone screen where—he presumed—you were looking at the Devils’ game schedule. “Surely there’s a better way than playing, like, three back to backs in such a short time span.”

“It’s hockey,” Luke shrugged, like that somehow explained everything. “It’s just how it is. How it’s always been, to be honest.”

“This makes no sense,” you grumbled, your eyes narrowed in distaste. “You literally played four games last week! Four! In the space of six days!”

Luke snorted. “Yeah, Cherry, I’m fully aware. I was at the games. Playing.”

You shot him a look before letting your brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“The schedule?” Luke asked.

“No, the hockey player sex god stereotype,” you retorted. “How the hell do they find the time to even have sex? How the hell do they have the energy to even have sex?”

Luke tried—and mostly failed—to bite back his grin. “That’s your big question about hockey players?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “I know you are professionals and all but surely this is a bit ridiculous.”

“Hockey is hockey,” Luke answered, shrugging once again. “It’s just always how it’s been.”

“So, hockey players are sex gods and sadists,” you muttered to yourself, your focus back on your phone screen. “Good to know.”

Luke only laughed in response.

“I don’t get why they don’t just move some of the games to the first week in February,” you pointed out. “You have nothing on then.”

“Because that’s when All-Stars is,” Luke answered. “They send a bunch of guys from different teams to compete in these challenges and stuff.”

“Like the Hunger Games?”

“I—” Luke’s nose scrunched up. “Yeah, but less death and violence. People usually stay nice for it.”

“Have you been reaped?” You questioned, grinning a little.

Luke rolled his eyes. “No, I have not. They choose the best.”

You frowned. “You are the best. You’re the best hockey player I know.”

Luke shot you a look. “I’m the only hockey player you know.”

“Semantics,” you waved him off. “My point still stands.”

“No, I get something better,” he stated. “I get a week off.”

You grinned. “Big plans?”

Luke shrugged. “Honestly, I was just looking forward to a week without Jack banging on my door for morning skate.”

“So you’re going to spend the week hibernating,” you teased, lightly nudging his thigh with your foot. But before you could pull your foot back, Luke had grabbed your ankle and easily maneuvered your feet onto his lap. “God, I’ll need to find someone else to cook for me for a week then.”

And the thing is that Luke knew you were just teasing. For all his claims of being a great cook (which he was, just in the few meals he actually knew how to cook), he had grown into a comfortable habit with you. He enjoyed spending time at your place. He enjoyed unwinding after bad games or grueling practices. He just enjoyed being around you, both before and after his recent realisation of his feelings.

But now he was staring at you from across the couch, watching the way you were lounging in one of his old Michigan sweatshirts and just felt that overwhelming urge to say something stupid.

Instead, he settled on, “you should come over.”

You paused, raising your brows. “Come over where?”

“To my place,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Jack will be gone and I’ll have the place to myself. We can just—” He paused, his brain going blank at the sight of your amused expression. “Chill.”

“Chill?” You repeated, grinning.

“Chill,” he nodded, squeezing your ankle. “Just…I feel like…I’m always imposing in your space, you know? You can impose in my space too.”

“You are a weird guy, Hughes,” you commented, though Luke liked to think you sounded fond when you spoke.

“Is that a no?” He asked before he could help himself.

You beamed in response. “It’s not a no.”

He felt something quite like hope spark in his chest. “So, it’s a yes?”

“Depends,” your eyes glinted. “Are you still Team Stefan? Because if the answer is yes, I will have to decline.”

Luke groaned. “I said that after we watched, like, three episodes! Stop holding that over my head!”

…

“This sucks!”

“Yes, it sucks so much being acknowledged for your skills,” Dawson deadpanned, watching the way Jack wandered around the locker room after practice, whining and complaining about everyone else making their Bye Week plans.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jack huffed, narrowing his eyes at the boy before shifting his attention to Nico, eyes wide and hopeful. “Take me with you? I want to go somewhere warm. I want to go somewhere where the chances of freezing my balls off are lower than zero.”

“Dude,” Nate scrunched his nose, laughing. “We play ice hockey for a living, you can handle a bit of cold.”

“Suck it up, superstar,” Curtis called out with a huge grin. “Gotta pay up for having the Hughes name on the back of your jersey.”

“Moose lucked out,” Jack sighed. “I have Quinn and the bajillion Canucks players that are also going. I swear he rigged the thing.”

“Bajillion?” Nico repeated with a disgustingly fond expression.

“Bajillion,” Jack nodded. “There’s too many of them. No one needs that many Canucks in one place. It’s an infestation.”

“I’m surprised you even know what that word means,” Nate snorted.

Jack glared.

“You not going up to Toronto to support your brothers?” Dawson asked, turning his head to look over at Luke. However, the boy barely reacted. He repeated the question again, and one more time before finally throwing a ball of rolled up tape at the side of Luke’s head.

Luke tore his eyes away from his phone, snapping his head up to find half the locker room already staring at him. “What? What did I miss?”

“Jack complaining about All Stars,” Curtis answered.

“Oh,” Luke blinked. “So nothing new then?”

“You're not going to Toronto?” Nico asked this time, before Curtis could say whatever witty response he had ready to go.

“Uh, no,” Luke shook his head.

“Scared you’ll steal their thunder?” Nate joked, patting Luke’s shoulder as he walked past to get to his stall.

Jack snorted. “He thinks he’s too cool for Toronto. Probably following John to wherever the hell he is going.”

John’s ears perked, turning whilst he was still removing some of his gear. “What? Luke said he didn’t want to come with us.”

Jack paused, frowning a little before turning to Luke. “You’re not going away for the week?”

Luke could feel his cheeks burning up. “No?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“At least he also won’t be somewhere warm,” Nico stepped in, a hand on Jack’s shoulder providing more than enough distraction from Jack asking questions as he turned to look at Nico with the embarrassingly obvious heart eyes he has always had for the captain.

It gave Luke the short reprieve he wanted, avoiding the other curious looks he was getting as he glanced down at his phone screen for a moment, grinning at the messages before he locked it and put it back in his bag so he could finish getting changed.

cherry🍒: i hope you know that i am using this opportunity to steal as many of your hoodies as i can before the week is over

cherry🍒: consider this your one and only warning

…

It was surprisingly easy to prevent Jack from asking any more questions.

A little too easy, if Luke was being honest.

But Luke was also not an idiot so he didn’t question Jack’s silence after he mentioned a friend would be staying with Luke for the week. Jack had just stared blankly for a few moments before laughing, shaking his head and walking out the room, muttering something about needing to stop by Nico’s after he finished packing. Luke took it as the blessing it was and didn’t bring it up again.

Truthfully, it didn’t hit Luke how insane it felt to have you with him the whole week until he was running around the apartment, cleaning up whatever he could before his phone began ringing from the other room.

“Dude, you have shit timing.”

Ethan laughed on the other side of the phone. “You’ve been ignoring me! I feel abandoned. What happened to the Luke who said he missed me?”

“I never said that,” Luke retorted.

“Rude,” Ethan huffed. “Why do you sound so out of breath? Were you training or something?”

“Nah, just tidying the place up,” Luke replied absentmindedly, staring at the hoodie he picked up on the floor with a frown. If he was being honest, he didn’t know if it was his or Jack’s, and usually he didn’t care. But the image of you wearing it thinking it belonged to him when in reality it was Jack’s passed his mind and he quickly shoved it into the washing basket. That would be a problem he dealt with later.

“Ugh, don’t even,” Ethan whined on the other side of the phone. “I’m so jealous, dude. I would kill to be on a beach somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke muttered as he continued to pick up a few empty bottles of gatorade on the coffee table before pausing. “Wait, what? What the fuck are you on about? Who’s going to the beach?”

Ethan sounded just as confused on the other side. “You?”

“No, I’m not?” Luke replied, frowning. “I just told you, I’m at my place.”

“Yeah, because you are tidying up before you fly out somewhere. For Bye Week.”

“Who told you that?”

“I thought it was obvious? Why the fuck would you not be flying out somewhere?”

And honestly, Luke didn’t have much of a comeback for that one. Because to everyone else, it did seem weird. He knew that. He gathered as much from the rest of the boys’ reactions in the locker room the other day. He gathered it from Jack’s reaction and Quinn’s message (‘wtf rusty’) when he broke the news in the brothers group chat.

He knew.

But somehow trying to justify it to one of his best friends over the phone made him realise how fucking dodgy it sounded when none of them really knew about you.

“So, let me get this straight.”

Luke let out a deep sigh.

“You declined on going up to Toronto with your brothers because you didn’t want to impose, or whatever dumb shit you said, and let them enjoy All-Stars.”

“Yes.”

“And then you had the offer to go to Cabo and the Bahamas with teammates, which you also declined.”

“Mhm.”

“And then you decided to stay in New Jersey instead of even visiting us up in Michigan with your week off?”

“Yup.”

“Dude,” Ethan squawked, offended and confused and downright discombobulated. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a concussion? Is this like a mid-season breakdown? Do I need to call for help?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “You’re always so dramatic.”

“I think I am being perfectly reasonable here.”

Luke disagreed—majorly—but he valued his life so he stayed silent.

“You’re gonna get so bored staying in Jersey all week,” Ethan pointed out. “What are you even gonna do?”

Luke opened his mouth to reply just as the buzzer sounded through the apartment. If anyone asked, he would deny the way his face instantly broke out into a smile.

“Sleep my ass off. It’s hard being in the NHL,” Luke said in the snobbiest voice he could, letting Ethan cackle on the other side and try to get another word in before he spoke up again. “Look, I gotta run, I’ll call you later. Promise.”

“He plays in the big leagues and thinks he’s so much better than us.”

“I am better than you,” Luke grinned. “I remember winning beer pong.”

“That doesn’t fucking count! Mark was the one who—”

“Bye, Ethan!”

Luke couldn’t hang up and rush to open the door fast enough.

…

Deep down, he knew it was stupid for him to feel nervous about you staying over at his place for the week.

He had stayed over at yours more times than he could count on one hand. You had become an integral part of his life in New Jersey. You were one of his closest friends. He knew you. He knew you knew him. There should have been nothing that made the week weird.

But he couldn’t help but feel like it meant more. This was him inviting you to stay over for a few days, to stay at his place whilst his brother was out of town, to spend the week with him when he should be resting and drinking some overpriced cocktail on a beach somewhere warm.

You were his friend but spending his whole stay-cation with him in his apartment like the two of you were playing house was something far from platonic.

It was a bit of a mindfuck, but not as much as realising just how fucking easy it all was.

It was different from the various nights he spent at your apartment. It was different seeing you in his space, fitting into his life so easily. It was different seeing you relaxed and laid back, looking like you belonged.

It was different from the night at his birthday party, where you were one of many faces. It was just you and him, standing in his kitchen or sitting on his couch or lying in his bed. It felt so different but so fucking good.

Only a few days had passed and yet Luke forgot a time where you weren’t here, where you weren’t by his side throughout the whole day.

It was dangerous but the warning signs were easy to ignore when his attention was fully focused on you.

“Are you calling me lanky?”

“It was a compliment!” You insisted, but there was a smile on your face—not that he could see, considering your face was currently pressed against his chest as the two of you laid on the couch to watch the fastest skater skill event. “You would do well in this challenge. It would take you, like, five less strides than the rest of them.”

Luke snorted. “Geez, thanks.”

“You’ll see,” you murmured, nuzzling your head further into his chest. “You’ll do it one day and win and know that I’m right.”

“And then you’ll tell me ‘I told you so’?” Luke guessed, his eyes now on you rather than the tv screen.

“Obviously,” you replied, lifting your head so your chin was resting on the spot your cheek was squished against moments ago. “I’m always right, Hughes. The sooner you accept that fact, the easier your life will be.”

Luke raised his brows in amusement. “So when you very confidently said that you loved that movie where Andrew Garfield played Batman—”

“Shut up,” you groaned, lightly pinching his side but he quickly caught your hand. “We were watching Twilight! I was thinking about Robert Pattinson! I got confused!”

“Uh huh,” Luke beamed. “Just always so right—”

“You’re being a dick,” you huffed, even if you were smiling. “Here I was trying to give you a compliment—”

“By calling me lanky.”

“—and this is the thanks I get,” you shook your head.

Luke’s expression softened, his hand reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear as he smiled down at you. “Thank you, Cherry. I appreciate the confidence.”

“Confidence is sexy,” you retorted, your palms warm and comforting against his sides. “Soon you won’t need me to remind you.”

“But I like when you say it,” Luke retorted.

“Professional athletes and their praise kinks,” you sighed, grinning a little when he reached down to pinch your side this time.

“I’m the only professional athlete you know,” Luke pointed out, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach at the mere idea that maybe he wasn’t. That maybe you knew more, that maybe you had experience with more, that maybe they were far more experienced than him and—

“And you have a praise kink,” you said, interrupting his spiralling thoughts. “Therefore, my theory has not been disproved. I’m right.”

Luke’s cheeks burned hot. “I do not have a praise kink.”

You snorted, grinning as you lifted a hand to playfully squeeze his cheeks. “Aw, baby, you do and it’s hot. Don’t get all shy about it.”

“Whatever,” Luke murmured, turning his focus back to the tv instead of the growing smirk on your face.

But the thought lingered in his mind even as the two of you continued to cuddle on the couch, watching whatever movie you had chosen after the All-Stars events ended. It picked at his brain, chipping away at the self-restraint he had to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the night until the two of you were getting ready for bed.

He was lingering by the doorway, watching you get your side of the bed (because apparently that was also something that came easily to the two of you) ready before you climbed into bed. And before he could stop himself, he was already blurting out the words that were on the tip of his tongue for most of the night.

“Do you really think the praise kink thing is hot?”

His cheeks were already blushy and pink and hot when you turned your head to look at him.

“How long have you been wanting to ask that?” You asked, something lighthearted and teasing in your voice that was oddly reassuring. You didn’t think he was a freak for asking. Not that he ever assumed you would judge him, you both were far from that point.

“Does it change your answer?” He asked, not sounding half as confident as he wanted to.

Your smile softened a little as you walked around the bed and towards him. You tilted your head back once you were in front of him, watching him with a look he couldn’t quite work out.

Luke swallowed a little.

“It doesn’t change my answer,” you answered honestly.

Luke could feel something in his chest tighten. “And what’s your answer?”

“I think it’s hot,” you told him, saying it so casually as though the two of you were discussing the weather. “I think everyone has a praise kink to some extent but…”

Luke could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “But?”

“But it’s different with you,” you said, your fingers lightly skimming against his stomach before curling around the hem of his shirt. “You’re so…responsive. It’s hot.”

His body twitched, like his skin was too tight for his body. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling a little before using the grasp on his shirt to tug him closer and close the distance between you both. Not that there was much.

Luke was almost embarrassed by the noise he made the second your lips were on his, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as you used the leverage against him. He ducked his head down, trying to chase your lips as you continued to tease him and tempt him. He barely realised his feet were moving until the back of your knees hit the bed and you pulled back to look at him.

“So pretty,” you murmured, close enough to hear the way his breath hitched before you moved down onto the bed, with your grasp on his shirt enough to drag him down with you.

It was far from sexy, if Luke was being honest. An awkward maneuver of too many limbs and shuffling up the bed that should have ruined the moment, but it didn’t. Because it was you and you were laughing and smiling and snorting when Luke almost decked it on top of you after he got his foot stuck. You made it feel so normal. Like it was all just a part of the charm.

Maybe it was. Maybe feeling safe enough to be human and imperfect was a part of the charm.

Because despite the uncoordinated and clumsy scrambling onto the bed, you were still looking at him like you wanted to see how pink his cheeks could turn.

Luke barely put up a fight when you pulled him back down, happily following your movements as he settled between your legs and let you wind your arms around his neck so his nose was brushing against yours before you leaned in to kiss him again.

Unlike a lot of the other makeout sessions the two of you had, there was no rush. There was no lingering adrenaline from a game he wanted to work off or some bad plays he wanted to forget. There were no teasing messages or risky phone calls that were building up to this moment. There was absolutely nothing but just the two of you lying in his bed, making out because you wanted to.

Because you wanted to kiss him and he wanted to kiss you. Because you enjoyed the weight of him on top of you and he enjoyed the way your fingers entangled themselves in his curls. Because for reasons that were beyond his understanding, you wanted this as much as he did.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, his tongue lightly skimming over the area of his bottom lip you nipped with your teeth.

You smiled up at him. “See? So responsive. It’s cute.”

He swallowed. “Cute?”

“Cute, hot, sexy, whatever word you want to use, pretty boy,” you murmured, one hand sliding down to cup his face as your thumb skimmed over the apple of his cheek. “All I know is that I like the noises you make.”

Luke responded by leaning back down, kissing you because he could, because he wanted to, because he liked the way your laugh vibrated against his lips before you kissed back.

But whatever control Luke thought he had on himself when he was with you quickly dwindled as you pulled him closer, letting his body fall on top of you and let your thighs squeeze his sides until he was rocking his hips against yours, until he was practically panting between kisses.

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing one, two, three pecks against his lips before your lips traced along his cheek and down his jaw. “That’s it, baby. I can feel how much you like this. S’cute how worked up you get just making out.”

“You’re hot,” he gasped out, like it was self-explanatory. Like it justified why he could feel his dick twitching in his sweatpants, probably already making a mess that he would pretend didn’t embarrass him as much as it did.

Your smile was softer, your hand on his face feeling more intimate as you guided his eyes to meet yours. “I think,” you started, your thumb lightly tracing down his cheek and skimming his bottom lip. “You’re hot too. And that you can come like this. Make a mess f’me.”

And fuck, he could.

It wouldn’t be the first time he did, helplessly grinding against you whilst you kissed him and praised him and made his head fucking spin before he was coming harder than he really should be able to from a simple act. He could lean down, press his lips against yours and slide his tongue against yours and feel the way you cling onto him as he comes. He could do it.

But there was a buzzing voice in the back of his head, getting louder and louder until—

“I bought condoms.”

He could see the initial surprise on your face as you processed the words he just blurted out, the eyes locked on his kiss-swollen lips shifting to look up and watch the way he squirmed under the realisation of his words. He watched the way you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes narrowing slightly like you were observing him, keeping on edge until he spoke.

“You bought condoms,” you repeated, trying and failing to keep the smile off your face. “Big plans for this week?”

“I—” Luke’s face burned. “That wasn’t… didn’t mean…I was just—”

“Luke,” you said in a softer voice, your smile faltering a little into something more sincere. “M’only teasing.”

“Okay,” he whispered, a knot twisting in his stomach with every passing second. He swore he was moments away from just exploding out of pure embarrassment or something just as humiliating.

“Breathe for me,” you murmured, smiling a little when he let out a shaky breath. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Just because you bought them, doesn’t mean we have to do anything with them just yet.”

Luke swallowed, his whole body thrumming as he replied. “I…I want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his brows furrowing slightly. “Only if you want to, too. Because consent is sexy, you know.”

You laughed a little, both hands now cupping his face so your eyes could meet his. “I do, if you want this. If you’re ready.”

“It is,” he whispered, nodding again. “I trust you, Cherry. I want this. With you.”

“Okay,” you whispered before kissing him again, slow and sure and content.

It made him feel a little less like his skin was shrinking all over his body.

And you kept kissing him until his body didn’t feel so tense, until he didn’t feel like a wooden plank on top of you, until he was relaxed and making those little noises between kisses that let you know he wasn’t as nervous as before.

You kept kissing him as you lightly nudged him back, letting him lean back on his knees until he was straddling your body, giving him enough movement to lean over and scramble through his nightstand until he found the unopened box of condoms.

He tried to tear the plastic covering over the box off, tried to peel it away but his hands were shaking more than he liked and his heart was pounding in his chest and—

“Hey, relax,” you murmured softly, sitting up and taking the box from his hands with little fight from him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled with a sheepish smile. “Nerves, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you promised. “You know we can stop at any time, just say the word.”

He swallowed harshly. “No, I do—”

“I know,” you smiled. “But I also want you to know that.”

“Only if you do too,” Luke responded, looking completely serious as he said it. “If you want to stop at any moment too, you have to say something too. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this with me because it’s my…first time or whatever.”

“I promise,” you smiled before nudging him back, until he was settled with his back against the headboard and you were on his lap. “Don’t worry about the condoms right now, okay? Just focus on me.”

And Luke did.

Because, in complete honesty, it was very easy to ignore the box of condoms and the bubbling nerves and the growing realisation of what was about to happen. The voice in the back of his head saying ‘oh fuck, this is it’ was barely a whisper when his focus was on you.

It was easy to get lost in the familiarity of you. He was used to this. He was used to you sitting on his lap, straddling his thighs and kissing him senseless. He was used to you dragging your shirt over your head and throwing it to the side. He was used to you tugging his sweatpants down and letting your own follow and guiding his hand between your legs whilst you whispered filthy things against his lips.

He was used to the way you always targeted the spot just behind his ear, blowing cool air until he physically shivered. He was used to the way your eyes fluttered shut when his thumb lightly skimmed across your nipple. He was used to choking out a breathless moan whenever your thumb slid along the slit on the head of his cock. He was used to the way you tugged on his hair when you were close, letting the dull pain throb wonderfully at the base of his skull whilst you pressed your face against his shoulder.

You were right, all those weeks ago back at the start of the season, when you said he needed to build up to this moment. You were right about the different experiences and experiments the two of you had tried and tested over the last few months. You were right when you said it was just like practicing hockey.

It felt a bit fucking poetic and pathetic to compare his sex life to hockey right now, but he got it.

The same nerves that bubbled up before his first NHL game were no different. Because even though he had played hockey his whole life, it still felt nerve-wracking to play in the NHL. And even though he had spent the last few months doing so much with you, it was still kind of daunting to know it was all leading up to this.

But just like his first NHL game, it just felt right.

You felt right.

This whole moment felt right.

Luke knew he was not like his friends or teammates. He had spent years growing up with locker room talk, hearing about random hookups in the backseat of a car or halfhearted blowjobs in a bar bathroom. He heard about one night stands and casual flings and situationships that tended to go sour. He had heard it all and it was unsettling to imagine that was the future waiting for him.

But it wasn’t.

And it felt a bit comforting to know that he never had to look back on this experience and regret the person he was with or where he was or whatever stupid risk it could cause his career. All he had to think about was him and you and the way you were looking just as affected and turned on as he was right now.

“You still sure?” You whispered, soft and comforting and so fucking caring, it made his throat feel a little tight.

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling a little as he leaned in to kiss you again to emphasise his point. “I trust you. I want this with you.”

You smiled, still looking so fucking genuine before you leaned over to grab the box of condoms, removing the plastic peel with an ease he was only slightly jealous of. He watched you grab a small foil packet, glancing at him every few seconds like you were waiting for him to jump back on his decision.

“I trust you,” he repeated, confident and sure.

His hands laid on your legs as you tore open the foil packet. His hands squeezed the fat of your thighs as you rolled the condom on him, stroking him a few times until he was bucking into your touch. His hands were on your waist, supportive and guiding as you slowly sunk down onto his cock.

“Shit,” Luke breathed out, his breath shaky and gasping. “Shit.”

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, one hand on his shoulder and the other gripping the back of his neck. “I—fuck—I’ve got you.”

The squeeze of your walls around his cock made him want to close his eyes. It made him want to lean back against the headboard, keep his eyes closed and fucking bask in the feeling of you being so warm and tight and intense around him. But the desire to watch the way his cock disappeared into you was stronger, to watch the way your eyes fluttered shut and your lips parted as you settled fully on his lap.

It was fucking memesiring watching the way you slowly lifted your hips and sunk down again. It made him feel like his head was spinning as he watched you continued to move, to sink up and down on his cock, to fuck yourself on his cock and moan his name and look into his eyes and—

“Can I—” He cut himself off, a pathetic and whiny noise leaving his lips when you squeezed around him. “Can I please—”

“Whatever you want,” you murmured, breathless and panting as you leaned in to kiss him like you needed it.

He let himself enjoy the kiss, to enjoy the feeling of being inside you and the weight of you on his lap and your lips on his before he moved. Before he reminded his brain that he can move, that he didn’t have to feel so boneless and helpless, as he shifted until the two of you had rolled over and you were beneath him and—

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, loud and shameless as he hooked an arm under your knee, lifting your leg out of the way enough for him to thrust back in as your head feel back against the pillow. “Shit, yes, like that.”

For a second, it was hard to remember he was even in his own body as he watched you. It was fucking mesmerising as he watched you moan and whine beneath him, as he felt your nails digging into his skin and scratching down his back as you demanded him for more, as you muttered his name between pleas and begs and whimpers.

Luke kind of wished this moment would last forever.

Unfortunately for him, he was utterly weak when it came to you. Because you were pretty and sweet and you felt fucking unreal around him, and you were looking at him like he fucking meant something and—

It was so much. Too much. Just fucking enough.

“I can’t—” He gasped out, his whole body feeling like it was buzzing alive as the knot in his stomach twisted tighter and his thrusts became sloppier. “I’m not gonna last long—”

“Come for me,” you breathed out, your hands cupping his cheeks as you wound your legs around his waist. “C’mon, Luke, wanna feel you come in me.”

And well, he stood no fucking chance lasting after you said that to him.

He could have sworn his ears were ringing when he came. It was intense and overwhelming and disorienting and, fuck, it felt so good. He could feel his muscles tensing, his body rigid and shaking as his orgasm washed over him. He could feel the wave of pleasure rushing through him, leaving every fucking nerve in his body buzzing as he let himself enjoy the way you were squeezing him around him.

He felt like he was on cloud nine when you ran your hands through his curls, your lips against his ear whispering god knows what. But your voice was low and humming and comforting and he could feel his eyes slipping close to enjoy the sound of it.

He could feel you running your hands over his body, feel the way every inch of skin was pressed against you, feel the way your legs were tightening around him like you didn’t want him to move just yet either.

After the rush of adrenaline and pleasure, his body felt syrupy. His movements felt slow and unhurried, his thoughts felt like they were floating away. His brain felt fuzzy and pleased and content to just lay on the bed with you, bask in the feeling a little longer before the grossness and desire to clean up took over.

Luke was more than happy to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, to close his eyes and let out a happy sigh and let himself relax after the really intense last few minutes the two of you had just experienced.

And if Luke was more awake, he would have noticed the way you tensed up the second he spoke. The way your eyes widened, the way your body instantly locked up, the way you went a little pale.

If Luke was more awake, he would have been able to think twice before he spoke.

But Luke wasn’t awake. He fell asleep after muttering the one thought that had been on his mind since New Years.

He closed his eyes and slept like a fucking baby and woke up to an empty bed and an empty apartment and not a single sign of proof of the night before except the marks on his skin and the used condom lying on his bedroom floor.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he had slurred into the crook of your neck, his voice barely louder than a rumble as the sleepiness really hit.

If Luke was more awake, he would have stopped himself from completely fucking everything up.

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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shomatoriashi · 3 days ago

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01/31/25; 08:50pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ how they help you when you’re feeling overwhelmed and stressed ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

sylus can always tell when you’re about to go non-verbal, and instead of making you talk it out-

he’ll remain utterly patient with you.

sylus is a man who understands how challenging life can be sometimes, and all he wants to do is help you navigate through it, forever remaining by your side.

when he sees the defeated expression on your face, he’ll let out soft coos of your name before pulling you into his embrace. he’ll allow you to cling to him while basking in his warmth, not minding how you sought comfort from him during your time of need.

he would spend the day with you in your shared bedroom, canceling all of his meetings and duties for the day while making luke and kieran do the work for him.

he would spend the entire day in the comfort of your shared bedroom, allowing you to cling to him while ordering all of your favorite foods. his actions would forever remain oh so gentle with you as he helped with slowly rejuvenating your strength.

and as you fall asleep while in his embrace, sylus hopes that you would always see him as your safe haven in the future.

being a vastly intelligent man, zayne could always tell when you’re feeling overwhelmed. whimpers could be heard escaping from your parted lips as you curled up even further within the blankets.

and seeing you in such a state would make him take a sick day, wanting nothing more than to comfort you during your time of need. so after making the necessary calls, zayne would rejoin you in the comfort of your shared bed, making sure to keep the lights dimmed low.

when he removes the comforter away from your face, the doctor’s heart would inexplicably clench in response to your tear stained face, gently caressing at your damp skin with the back of his hand. he’ll call out your name in a loving manner, whispering words of encouragement to you while reassuring you that he’ll always remain by your side.

and when a tiny smile breaks through the melancholic haze of your expression, zayne knew that he was successful before proceeding to litter your face with gentle kisses, basking in your giggles of his name.

xavier will not leave your side for even a minute if he sees a single tear roll down your cheek. from seeing your pained expression, he knew that you weren’t quite ready to talk about what was bothering you.

so he remains steadfastly by your side, sharing the warmth of his body heat with you while keeping you wrapped up in his embrace. xavier will whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you that whatever it is, you could face it together-

never alone.

when xavier feels you slowly relax while in his embrace, he smiles, basking in your soft breathing and the way your chest rises and falls while sleeping within his embrace. true blue eyes would fill with love and adoration for you before he presses a kiss against your cheek, joining you in your peaceful slumber…

when he notices that you’ve become much quieter than usual, rafayel is usually the one to help with cheering you up. he’ll take a day off doing any commissions while placing you within his embrace.

he won’t take any offense with your silence, often keeping you on the comfort of his lap while feeding you all of your favorite candies and snacks. in order to get a few laughs from you, he’ll spend the day sketching all of your favorite plushies while giving them silly expressions.

as you laugh for him, rafayel would feel his heart go lighter, nearly soaring at the sound as he sought ways to further elicit such a joyous reaction from you-

needless to say, rafayel didn’t mind being your personal clown, as long as you felt better and he was the one making you smile.

caleb would be your staunch protector during moments where you feel overwhelmed and overstimulated. he’ll allow you a moment to cry and let out all of your sadness, never once judging you or pushing you away as he felt your tears staining at the front of his shirt.

he’ll pull you achingly closer to him, allowing you to bury your face within his chest as he listened to you rant about your frustrations and whatever was making you feel sad. even with his busy schedule, caleb would always find time for you, no matter what.

only after you finish your vent does he offer you to cook you all of the delicious meals you crave for. tell him anything that you want, and he’ll make it in an instant for you. for caleb, nothing is off the table when it comes to you, and he always want you to feel loved and cherished unconditionally by him-

something that the young colonel knows will never change.

end notes: i’ve been feeling a little down lately and wrote this as a comfort fic for me, and also anyone else who needs reassurance as well. i wrote this in thirty minutes, and i know it’s not much, but this was something i personally needed ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #caleb x reader #sylus x you #zayne x you #xavier x you #rafayel x you #caleb x you #sylus fluff #zayne fluff #xavier fluff #rafayel fluff #caleb fluff #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader

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illubean · 2 days ago

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NSFW warning; reader discretion advised

imagine riding Nerdjo while on the phone with his best friend; the one and only lady killer Suguru

The three of you were pretty close friends, and you had slept with Suguru before, but poor virgin Satoru only recently just worked up the courage to confide in you about his problems

Despite being attractive enough to get any girl he wanted, Satoru often turned down the attention of any other women. He feared that his hobbies would scare them off sooner or later, and even if they didn't, he wanted to lose it to someone he trusted.

He knew that someone had to be you, but since you and Suguru were pretty consistant FWB, it felt slightly wrong to him.

you should only be sleeping with one person at a time, right?

So when he finally told you about his qualms, he didn't expect you to strip him, push his back onto his digimon bedsheets, and give him the ride of his life

No woman in her right mind would fuck a man who still had digimon bedsheets in his late 20s, but Satoru was just so cute asking you for help that you couldn't say no to him

Satoru whimpered and whined beneath you, your weepy pussy clenching around his length feeling better than his hand ever could. The poor guy couldn't keep his hands to himself, pawing and groping any and every inch of skin he could reach

You cooed at him while he babbled nonsense, before your phone went off and you picked it up from the bedside table. Suguru was facetiming you. Without as much as a second thought, you answered.

"Hey pretty. What are you up to?"

"Mm, not much. Just hanging out with 'Toru" you responded as if you weren't currently bouncing on the aforementioned man's cock. Satoru slapped a hand over his mouth, attempting to muffle his own pleasured cries while his skin flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his neck.

"I didn't know you guys were hanging out today. I just got off work, should I come over?"

"Sure! Y'know, he actually asked me-"

"Mnnooooo, don't tell himm!"

Your eyes widened at Satoru's whiny protest, looking at him past your phone to see a fucked out, embarrassed expression on his face. You let out a breathy laugh and smirked down at him, slowing your hips in order to grind your pelvis against his.

"Aww baby, why not? I'm sure he could help you too," you teased, turning your attention back to the blackette on your screen. "Why don't I just show him then?"

Before Satoru could protest, you flipped your camera around to show Suguru the position you currently had his best friend in. Satoru used the back of one hand to cover his face and the other to try and shield the camera from where the two of you connected. His entire body felt hot, head turning to the side while he felt tears prick at the corners of his blue eyes.

You swatted the hand he was using to block Suguru's view away before resting your own against his abdomen, caressing soothing circles against his skin.

"Isn't he just the cutest? Hurry Sugu, come join us!"

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ovrgrwnivy · 2 days ago

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CLASSIFIED ; spencer reid

synopsis ; a sleepy morning turns into spencer falling over himself to get to work on time, forgetting his badge behind him.

includes ; spencer reid x fem!reader, kissing, getting interrupted by the bau, secret relationship

sunlight flittered through your blinds, heat radiated off your boyfriend who laid beside you, his arm draped over you as he slept peacefully. you card your fingers through his hair, unintentionally stirring him from his sleep.

“oh, i’m sorry baby” you apologise, voice soft in an attempt to keep him from waking up any further “go back to sleep.”

it was a rare day off for spencer, by your second date he’d told you he was in the bau, by your fifth you had gotten used to work tearing him away. but despite the annoyance, you had gotten used to it. you understood his job was important, you understood that evil wouldn’t take a break just so you could keep your boyfriend all to yourself.

when you asked him how personal time worked, he admitted to you that his team didn’t know he had a girlfriend. it stung a little, but when he explained that his job would be putting you at risk it softened the blow.

you’d heard the horror stories, how his boss’s wife was killed just so the unsub could get to him, about another girl who had been shot simply for being an agent.

it sucked, but you understood why, at least for now, spencer didn’t want to broadcast you all over the office.

“don’t wanna,” spencer mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he blinked his eyes open “don’t wanna waste my one day off.”

you couldn’t help the small smile that appeared when he said that, days off may be hard to come by but spencer made sure you were the sole focus for every second of them.

he propped himself up on his elbow, his other hand tightening its grip on your waist to pull you closer “c’mere, pretty”

his sleepy voice makes the words sound even better as you lazily wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair at the back of his head.

he presses a lazy kiss to your lips, which quickly spirals into something deeper. his hands grip at your waist, desperate, like he was afraid that if he loosened his grip you’d disappear.

trails of nips and kisses are dragged along your neck as he moves to hover over you, your breathing is shallow, fingers tightening in his hair as his hand slides over the surface of your stomach, fingers tracing along the hem of your underwear.

“fuck,” spencer mumbles, long fingers slipping under the fabric agonisingly slowly “you look so pretty, baby, so pretty under me.”

you let your eyes fall closed, his mouth still attached to your neck as his fingers ghosted across your skin.

until his phone rings, eliciting a frustrated groan from you both. you watch as he reluctantly reaches for it to see who’s calling. you don’t need to ask, his irate expression tells you it’s work.

“yeah?” his tone is blunt, uncharacteristically so but you can’t exactly blame him “what? no, i’m not supposed to be — right. fine.”

he doesn’t need to explain what’s going on, you already know by the way he jumps out of bed and hurriedly starts getting ready to head into work.

it’s immature, you know, but you can’t help but cross your arms in annoyance as you watch him bolt back and forth around the room.

“sorry, baby.” spencer sighs, easily reading the mixture of frustration and disappointment in your expression “i’ll make it up to you, promise.”

you hum in agreement as he presses a kiss to your forehead, promising to call you when he could before disappearing out of the room, and in turn, your apartment. you stay in bed a little longer, feeling sorry for yourself and worrying about your boyfriend at the same time.

the floor is a mess, both yours and spencer’s clothes strewn around as well as decorative pillows and comforters. as you begin picking clothes up from the floor, your eyes fall on a small, rectangular piece of leather hidden under a pair of socks.

spencer’s badge.

you gnaw on your bottom lip, conflicted on what to do. by now spencer would already be at the office, calling him to come back would cut important time from his schedule. but without it he’d be in trouble.

you needed to bring it to him without airing his personal business to the entire building, which is how you ended up signing in as a visitor who was here to meet with agent derek morgan.

the only name you heard from spencer that you could remember confidently.

a serious looking woman showed you the way to the bau office, your fingers nervously drumming on the leather cover of the badge as you headed up the elevator.

all hope was lost once you stepped out, two glass doors showcasing the expanse of the office filled with people shoulder deep in whatever they were working on.

you look around the hallway like a deer in headlights, unsure if you could just walk in or if you could just give the badge to someone else to pass on to spencer.

“you okay!?” a cheerful blonde approaches you, seemingly from nowhere. arms stacked with files and carrying a coffee cup at the same time.

“uh,” you’d feel guilty adding to her workload “do you need a hand?”

mentally you face palm, cursing yourself for your lack of social skills in the simplest of situations.

“please!” the woman gasps, the ceramic mug wobbling in her hand “hotch is going to kill me if i spill coffee all over his case. i already told him ‘mister hotch sir, it would be easier to go digital’ but nooo.”

you laugh softly, taking the mug from her unstable hand and tugging open the door for her.

surely you could enter with someone who was actually allowed in the office.

“follow me!”

she’s speeding ahead, a woman on a mission, up the steps and into what seems like a conference room. you trail behind apprehensively, not wanting to get either of you into trouble by just swanning in.

“if there’s any dismembered bodies or general badness on the screen i swear to god!” she warns, rounding a corner and disappearing into the room.

you hang back awkwardly, partly because you have no business in there but mostly just in case there was any dismembered people on display.

“you’re all good!” her head pops around the corner and she motions for you to come in, so you do.

there’s barely time to register your surroundings, a circular table with a group of people sitting around it. you spot spencer instantly, you don’t even attempt to guess who everyone else is.

his head is buried in a case file, so your presence is unknown to him. which isn’t a surprise considering you’re not meant to be in the building let alone the office.

“garcia, we talked about this.”

a stern voice comes from a tall, serious looking man. you didn’t need to be a genius to work out he was most definitely spencers boss.

“right.” the woman, garcia, presses her mouth into a thin line as she gently takes the mug from your hands “do you know where you’re meant to be, lovely?”

“oh, uh, here actually.”

as you retrieve the badge from your back pocket, spencers head snaps up at the sound of your voice. his eyes widen slightly and a small smile makes its way onto his face.

“hey, what are you doing here?”

his question catches you off guard, even more so when he gets to his feet and moves around the table towards you.

wordlessly, you hand over his id, the perfectly rehearsed excuse of finding it at a cafe stuck in your throat now that spencer had made it known you weren’t a stranger.

“how did i — thank you.” his smile widens slightly, his hand resting on your waist briefly as he pressed a thankful kiss to your temple “i’ll call you on the plane, okay?”

you knew he wasn’t trying to brush you off, but he was evidently busy and you had no actual reason to still be here.

you nod, face warming up when he gives you another quick kiss before you go, sending a tiny smile and a brief wave towards the rest of the team.

as you gently shut the door behind you, you aren’t quick enough to miss the questions thrown in spencers direction. even laughing softly at garcias exclamation of “spencer has a girlfriend!”

#ivywrites #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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fairqves · 2 days ago

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୨୧ NIGHTMARES

───── IN WHICH you have a bad nightmare about the members cheating on you!

(🐰) ⟡ 𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘 — 𝒽yung line! enha & 𝑓! reader .. angst to fluff, established relationship ♡ ◞ wc 0.3K each 𓂅 warnings : topic of cheating, skinship, kissing.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

LEE HEESEUNG

YOU FOUND YOURSELF waking up gasping, your body hot and uncomfortable as your heart hammered in your chest.

the vivid memories of the dream lingered in your memory—the distant look on heeseung’s face, the other person’s face, and the way he had looked at you like you were absolutely nothing to him.

you sat up, the blankets tangled around your legs as you tried to shake off the ache in your chest.

heeseung stirred beside you with a groan at the disturbance of his slumber, his hand immediately reaching out for you, his voice groggy as he blinked up at you. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶 ♡

“what’s wrong, babe?” his eyes were barely open, but the concern in his voice was quite clear. you didn’t want to tell him. it was stupid, simply a figment of your imagination, but the pain still felt so real.

he noticed your hesitation, now fully awake as he sat up to face you. “hey—talk to me. did you have a bad dream?”

“it’s nothing,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze, but your trembling voice betrayed you.

heeseung gently cupped your face with a pout, his thumbs wiping away the glossy tears you didn’t realize had fallen. “nothing doesn’t make you cry like this. tell me, baby.”

finally, you broke—spilling everything in a blabber of words, how you dreamt that he had cheated on you, how cold and uncaring he had been in the dream, and how it left you feeling so vulnerable.

heeseung’s eyes widened, and his expression softened into something that made your chest ache even more—love and guilt for something he hadn’t even done.

“angel,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms. “i don’t know what i did in your dream, but i’m so sorry it made you feel like this. i promise you, on everything in this world—i would never, ever, ever do that to you.”

his hold around you was firm, grounding, and his voice gentle as he reassured you. “i love you so much, words can’t even explain it. you’re the only one for me in this lifetime, and all my other ones too, okay? i love you and you only. whatever happened in that dream isn’t real, but i know your emotions are, and i’ll do whatever i can to make you feel better.”

you sniffled at his words as you clutched onto his shirt tighter, the pain easing away as he held you in his embrace.

he stayed up with you for the rest of the night, holding you close in his arms and whispering sweet affirmations until your breathing evened out and sleep finally came.

PARK JONGSEONG

THE SOUND OF YOUR SOBS had quickly pulled jay out of his deep slumber immediately.

he bolted upright, his sharp gaze scanning the room before settling on you, curled up onto your side with your face buried in your hands.

“honey, what’s wrong?” his voice was laced with urgency as he reached out to touch your shoulder. you flinched at his touch, which only deepened his worry. “did something happen? are you hurt?”

you shook your head, trying to compose yourself and get it together, but the dream had felt so real.

his voice, the way he held someone else so easily, and the way he had walked away from you with no regrets—it all came rushing back.

jay’s hand hovered in the air before he gently turned you to face him. “hey, look at me. please.” his voice was softer now, his brows furrowed in concern.

you took a shaky breath and finally met his gaze. “i had a dream that you.. that you cheated on me.”

jay blinked, his lips parting in surprise. for a moment, he didn’t know what to say, but then he saw the tears pouring down your face, the pain and heartbreak written all over your features, and his chest tightened.

“y/n,” he began carefully, his hands settling on the sides of your face. “i don’t know what happened in that dream, but i’m so sorry it hurt you like this.” his voice cracked slightly as he continued.

“you mean everything to me. even the thought of hurting you like that—” he stopped, shaking his head as if even imagining it was too much to bear.

“it wasn’t real,” you whispered, but your voice wavered.

“no, but your feelings are,” jay said reassuringly. “and i’m here to remind you that you’re the only one i want. i don’t care what dream jay did—i’m the real one, and i’d never do anything to lose you.”

he stayed with you, talking softly about the future he envisioned with you—little details like the places he wants to travel with you and the kind of house he dreams of building together. his words were like the calm after a storm, slowly mending the cracks the dream had left behind.

SIM JAEYUN

YOU DIDN’T REALIZE you had been crying in your sleep until you woke up to jake shaking you gently. “y/n? wake up. are you okay?” his voice was thick with drowsiness but filled with concern.

when you opened your eyes, the sight of his worried face brought a fresh wave of tears. he frowned, pulling you close. “hey, what’s wrong? talk to me.”

“i—i had a dream,” you managed to choke out, your voice muffled against his chest.

“what kind of dream?” jake’s voice was calm, but his hands trembled slightly as he held you, as if he were preparing himself for whatever you were about to say.

“you cheated on me,” you whispered, the words feeling like poison on your tongue.

jake pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes wide. “what?” his reaction was immediate—hurt flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced by a sadness. “oh, baby. i would never do that to you.”

“i know it was just a dream,” you said quickly, embarrassed by how emotional you felt. “but it felt so real, jake. i can’t shake it off.”

he didn’t say anything at first, he just pulled you back into his arms, holding you as though you might disappear. “i hate that you even had to feel like that, even in a dream,” he whispered against your hair.

“i love you so much, and the thought of hurting you like that—” he broke off, taking a deep breath. “i’d rather lose everything than lose you.”

jake spent the rest of the night proving it wasn’t just words. he showered you with affection, his hands brushing your hair back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple, your forehead, your cheeks. he didn’t let you go until he was sure you believed him.

PARK SUNGHOON

YOU WOKE UP ONLY to find sunghoon’s side of the bed empty, which only made the lingering weight of the dream worse.

the image of him with someone else, his cold voice telling you he was in love with someone else, played on repeat in your mind.

your cries must have been louder than you thought because moments later, sunghoon appeared in the doorway, holding a glass of water.

“you’re awake,” he said, his tone soft. “i heard you mumbling in your sleep. you okay?”

you shook your head, biting your lip in attempt to keep the tears at bay, but it was no use. sunghoon was at your side in an instant, placing the glass on the nightstand and pulling you into his arms.

“what happened? did you have a nightmare?”

you nodded, but the words wouldn’t come out. sunghoon pulled back slightly to look at you, his hands cupping your face. “whatever it is, it’s okay. you can tell me.”

“i dreamt you cheated on me,” you finally admitted, your voice breaking at the words. sunghoon’s face fell, his brows furrowing together in confusion and pain at the sheer thought.

“cheated on you? y/n, no. never.” his voice was firm, almost desperate. “how could you even dream of something like that?”

“i know it wasn’t you,” you said quickly, tears streaming down your face. “but it felt so real, and i woke up feeling like i lost you.”

sunghoon sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you didn’t lose me. you never will.” his voice softened, and he rested his forehead against yours. “i don’t know what dream-me was thinking, but real-sunghoon is so crazy about you, it’s embarrassing sometimes.”

his attempt to cheer you up brought a small, shaky smile to your lips, which he immediately noticed.

“there it is,” he said softly, caressing away your tears. “that’s the smile i love. don’t let some stupid dream take it away.”

sunghoon stayed close to you all night, his warm presence being a reassurance—he made you laugh with funny stories and whispered sweet affirmations until the ache in your chest finally faded.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. i’m in love with my theme rn like omg why did i eat down.. anyways everybody plz pray there’s a snowday on monday !!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy @dazzlingjaeyun

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moonstruckme · 1 day ago

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hai lovie!!! im not sure of youve written something like this for emt!marauders yet but could you write something where they come home from work to reader lying on the floor on the hallway due to having low blood pressure and shed tried to go get something to eat or something but had started feeling faint and had to lie down? and then when they come up to reader she starts to cry because being unwell makes her anxious (im not fussed if you dont add that last part up to you <3). i had really low blood pressure the other day and bad to lie on the floor for a good two hours and it really stressed me out :< anyway thanks lovie i hope youre doing well !!!!

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of dizziness, nausea, worries about being alone when unwell and also being unwell in general

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re half propped up with your elbow on a step when you hear the front door open.

“Hello?”

“Hello!” comes James’ chipper reply, followed by Sirius’ groan and the clunking of shoes as he no doubt kicks them off, beelining for the couch. After a moment of you not appearing to greet them, James asks, “Where are you?”

“I’m—here.” You soften your voice when Sirius walks by the stairs, his step faltering as he locks eyes with you.

His eyebrows bunch, concerned before he really knows why. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m…” You shrug limply, trying on a helpless smile. Tears threaten to spill over from the way your eyes squish up. “I don’t feel right.”

Sirius has only taken his first, slow step toward you, bemusement written across his features, before James and Remus are behind him at the base of the stairs.

“Oh. Hi, angel.” James’ voice matches his expression, all gentleness, and worry hidden beneath counterfeit cheer. “Having a little lie down?”

“Yeah,” you say. Sirius’ touch is a relief as he reaches you. He cups your face and feels your forehead, brows stitched together. You’re happy to be in capable hands. “I started to fall, so I just laid down here. I’m a bit dizzy.”

There’s only so many of you that can fit on the stairs. James makes it to you next, crouching beside Sirius to take your hand in his and press his fingers to your pulse, so Remus is left peering over them both. He frowns, looking conflicted about his inability to help and worried in general. You try another smile for his sake; unfortunately, this time, the tears do spill.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Sirius says, no real chiding in his tone as he knuckles them from your cheeks.

“Sorry.” You force yourself to breathe, but new ones come anyway. It’s a slow sort of cry, the result of a good long while feeling sorry for yourself. “I just, I felt sick, so I tried to go upstairs to the toilet, but then I started to faint and I didn’t think I could make it back down to my phone, and I didn’t know when you would be home, or if anyone would find me…”

“We’re here now, though, sweetheart,” Remus stops you gently. “It all worked out alright. You’re okay.”

“Yeah.” You wipe underneath your eyes. “I think my blood pressure just dropped all of a sudden or something, but I still feel weird. It was scary.”

“I think you’re right,” James says. He runs his thumb over your wrist. “I mean, I’d like to think it’s just because we’re home and you’re pleased to see us, but your heart’s going pretty fast, m’love. How long ago did you lie down here?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, sniffling, feeling silly. “I don’t have my phone. Less than an hour, I think.”

Remus hums. “That’s still a long while.”

Honestly, you feel better just having your boyfriends here with you. Partly because of the security, of course, that you know you won’t faint and hit your head with no one to help you, but also, perhaps, there’s a small part of you that enjoys their fussing. The concerned set of Sirius’ brow, the way Remus’ mouth puckers thoughtfully, how James keeps rubbing his thumb over your wrist like he can soothe your heart back into its regular rhythm.

“Well, then.” Sirius pats your hip, rising from his crouch. “Not much point in figuring it all out here, is there? C’mon, pretty girl, that step has to be killing your side.”

It’s true; you think the edge of the step probably leaves an indent in your waist after you let Sirius haul you up, supporting you down the stairs and over to the couch.

“I don’t feel as dizzy as I was expecting,” you admit. “Maybe I was overreacting.”

“You?” Sirius exclaims, feigning astoundment.

“Better to be safe,” says Remus. He claims a spot next to you quickly, as though seizing his opportunity. It makes your lips tug. “I’m glad you were careful, love.”

You lean your head on his shoulder in a silent plea for coddling; he appeases you, pressing his lips to your hair while Sirius pinches the skin of your forearm gently. You watch him with mild interest.

“When was the last time you drank water?” he asks.

“Um…” You think back.

Sirius lets go of your skin and tuts. “Yeah, seems like it’s been long enough for you not to remember.”

“On it,” James announces, coming back from the kitchen with a large glass of water. He passes it to you over the back of the couch, and it’s so full a tiny bit spills over the rim onto your wrist, making you shiver. “It’s more common than you’d think for dehydration to do that to you. Gotta be careful.”

“Yes,” says Remus drily, though his arm comes around your shoulders. “Rather easily avoidable.”

You shrink, mumbling, “Sorry,” into your glass.

James awws and bends over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on your head, his good cheer restored, genuinely now. “We all forget sometimes, lovie.”

“Don’t enable her,” Sirius tells him. He cradles your arm in his hand, stroking the skin he’d pinched as though in apology for his treatment of it. “Don’t listen to him. It’s a grave oversight and you must repent forever.”

“Forever?” Your smile still feels weak, but you’re coming back to yourself some. “How will I do that?”

“Mm,” Sirius takes to kissing your arm instead, mumbling with a sternness that borders upon silly, “start with filling your water bottle every day before leaving the house, and at least three times after that.”

You go quiet, gaze sliding to Remus skeptically.

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Is that…really how much I’m supposed to have?”

His other eyebrow lifts, too. “Yes.”

“Every day?”

“Yes.” Remus laughs, exasperated. “Yes, that’s the water intake your body needs.”

“There’s no way everyone’s doing that.”

“They’re not,” James agrees. “Instead, everyone is getting dizzy and calling us so we can go pick them up from halfway up the stairs.”

You bring the glass back to your lips, muttering, “I didn’t call, you just found me.”

James kisses your head again, fiercely. “And we always will, lucky girl.”

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bunny-jpeg · 18 hours ago

Text

next level

lando norris

request: “Just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” w/ Lando Norris 43. “just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.”

tags: smut/pwp, established relationship, teasing& seduction, video games, cough sex, cowgirl position

eros (the valentine's day collection)

just because it wasn't sim racing, doesn't mean it didn't require lando's full attention. but it was hard to beat the level when his loving, beautiful girlfriend would not get away from the front of the television.

he wouldn't deny it, you were beautiful. but lando had been trying to beat his level for over an hour, and he was so close before you stood in front of the television screen. your arms crossed and your hip cocked slightly to the side. your gaze stayed on him as he tried to see the screen behind you.

"lando... it's eleven-forty. time for bed."

he exhaled and said, “just let me finish this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” his words were promising. but with the season around the corner, the future world champion needed his rest. and you knew exactly how to get him settle for the evening.

he breathed a sigh of relief when you moved away from the television and towards him on the couch, you were pressed right up against him and pushed back his curls. you chuckled lowly and he tensed up a little.

"honey. baby. please." he said.

"i'm not doing anything. you wanted to keep playing, then keeping playing." your hand trailed across his clothed chest, you added a little pressure when your thumb grazed his nipples. sensitive spot. you were breaking out all the stops for this.

you touched his skin and he tried to navigate the level, he could feel the tightness in his sweatpants from your tender touches. his focus was split between the difficulty of the level and when you were going to do next. hard to say what you were going to do, your expression was unreadable.

"honey." he said.

"focus, lando." you cooed before your hand dipped lower and you grasped his hardening cock through his sweatpants. you chuckled lightly to yourself as you watched him squirm. trying his best to focus.

you could see the muscles of his neck move as he swallowed, the feeling was getting in his head. it was cute, to see him squirm. but he was so determined to finished this level. you were just providing moral support!

"oh shit, right there." he muttered as he missed the jump in the level and had to restart. you rubbed his cock through his sweatpants and you watched him squirm a little. his length throbbed under your touch and you smiled a little. how cute.

you chuckled lightly and continued to tease his cock, you watched him struggle and admired the sight of him. he looked sweet as he tried to fight back the pleasure that coursed through him. you watched him fail the level again and again and once more before he threw the controller to the side and grabbed you.

"come here." he said as he pulled you close to him. he got you up in his lap with his hands in your sweatpants and under your underwear. he kept his gaze on you as he rubbed your slit against his talented fingers.

"someone's needy." you remarked with a small laugh. you took him by the face and pulled him in for a hot kiss. he groaned against your lips as you rubbed yourself up against him. it felt beautiful, you felt like a dream.

when he pulled away, he looked up at you and remarked, "well, i think i just had a revelation. your hot pussy is a lot better than video games." then continued to rub your clit before you got your bottoms off.

your wetness rubbed against the fabric of his grey sweatpants. you felt the curl of excitement through you as the two of you moved against each other on the couch. you rubbed up against each other and it left you both feeling hotter.

his hands gripped your bare ass he looked up at you, there was a lustful twinkle in his eye and you smiled down at him. he looked good under you. he gave you ass a light slap, "fuck you're hot."

you held him by his cheeks and said, "and you're hotter when you're not wasting your evening on video games." then kissed him once more before you got his cock out of his sweatpants. you rubbed yourself up against his leaky length before you sank yourself on him.

"lando. fuck." you exhaled.

he moaned into the next kiss and held you tighter, helped you onto him. you took him beautifully, he slipped in without much struggle. and it only made him relax against the couch a little more. it was a hot feeling, you made a fire burn inside of him with each of your slow thrusts.

you held onto his shoulders and moved your body. your worked yourself on his cock as you kept kissing him. heavy breathing and small moans filled the living room air underneath the loud sound of the video game's music. he held on tightly and guided you up and down his cock. the two of you seemed to move at a similiar pace with no words spoken.

he understood you and you understood him. when you broke away from the kiss, the two of you gazed at one another. lando soon buried his face between your clothed breasts and groaned, "fuck, that feels good. right there, fuck, baby." he shuddered from the intense pleasure of it all.

he felt like a fool for ignoring you, but thankful that you were determined. because with your slick cunt around his cock, the pleasure felt better than any stress of the game. he groaned once more into your chest and you pulled his hair a little.

"see." you said, "should've just come to bed. got all comfy under the covers and let me ride you until you saw stars. i know i'm better than that stupid game, and i'm glad i could make you see the error of your ways." your voice was cheeky and lando just groaned against you.

"you're right, you're right." he panted.

it was no secret that lando loved your pussy, he loved having sex with you. you could recall when he was on the road and he was near begging for photos of you. not even nudes. just something to tide him over until he could smother himself in your love. to him you were divine and he wanted to bask in your holiness.

the two of you continued to move together under the bright light of the television screen. it was late in the evening, you two should be in bed. and while having sex on the couch wasn't your ideal location for fucking, it still felt nice.

lando's cock was snug inside of you and it made you toes curl from the pleasure. the thrumming of your heart while you moved against him left you panting and lustful for the man you had your arms wrapped around. you kissed him once more, moans were shared and you felt the pleasure rise in your body like steam over hot water.

at least lando could admit that it felt better. to fuck you was a treat that he indulged himself in and as he moved harder against you, he wanted more. you moaned into the kiss and he gripped your ass once more before he wrapped both arms around your middle tightly. it gave him better leverage to fuck you with.

your noises got hotter and more needy, the lust was intense in your core. the two of you moved quickly against one another as the pull of orgasm drew closer. you whined, he panted when the kiss was broken. you were both needy for one another.

"i'm close." you whined.

he held on tightly and said, "then cum for me. c'mon, fuck. i need it. cum for me and i'll spend the rest of the night eating out that fucking beautiful pussy until you can't cum anymore." his breathing was heavy.

you dug your nails into his back and with a few more thrusts of your hip, you finished on his cock. when you slowed down, lando worked up into you faster. your noises were higher pitched and the feeling radiated through you.

he came soon after with his face between your chest. he tensed up for a moment as he came then relaxed. he panted against your soft t-shirt as he relaxed a little bit. he shakily exhaled and pulled his head away, "wow."

you chuckled and kissed him gently on the lips, "i know. i guess it's time for bed." you winked at him.

lando reached for the control, "one more try of the level... then i'll go bed." he booted the game up again with his semi-hard cock still inside of you.

you gave him a death glare. next time, you promised yourself, you'd drag him by the ears to bed if you had to. <3

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rafesdollette · 2 days ago

Text

— ୨ৎ how diva!reader fixed rafe's wardrobe.

synopsis: ever since you've met rafe, you've felt like he needed a wardrobe revamp. of course, you weren't gonna say anything about it cause rafe is...rafe; but now, as his girlfriend, you've got every right to take him on a shopping spree —with his money of course. author's note: first work with diva, I'm so so excited...definitely wish this wasn't written in a free period but wtv. content warnings: fluff! a tiny bit suggestive but no smut.

“sweetheart, i wanna go home.” rafe groaned dramatically, trailing behind you as you piled more clothes into his arms. “and we will” you hum, picking up white linen button up from the racks and adding it into the pile. “when we're done.” you turn around to face him, looking over the hefty stack of new additions to his wardrobe, swapping or getting rid of certain articles of clothing.

“christ.” he mumbled in disbelief, shifting the load into a neater pile, staring wide eyed at the variety of clothing you picked out. “i mean, it’s not like i don’t appreciate it.” he said quickly as your face twisted into an expression that told him to tread lightly. “but do i really...need all of this?” you roll your eyes, pressing your glossed lips into a thin line as you place a hand on your hip. “ray, you dress like a depressed frat boy. it's sad. I don't get it; you have money. yet, you dress like...that.”

“so?” he responds flatly, almost immediately, only to be met with a glare from you. “a'ight, a'ight.” he mumbled in defeat. “i'll shut up.” he sighed, watching you add two pairs of jeans to the stack. with a satisfied grin, you add a few more items to the already abundant pile before nodding to the changing room. “now go,” you commanded, shooing him away with your hand. “try them on so i can say i told you so.”

“you're so demanding.” he huffed, taking a step away from you. “do i look like a ken doll to you, baby?” however, he still made his way to the dressing room, entering inside and closing the door behind him.

as soon as the door closed behind him, he couldn't help but grimace at the mess of clothes that was in his arms. he loved you, very much. but he wasn't the type to go shopping like some housewife. rafe was a simple, very simple, man—a fact that he liked to remind himself in moments like this. with a groan, he set all of the clothes down on the changing booth bench, glancing down at himself before pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it onto the bench.

a few moments later, he had changed into the first outfit, standing in front of the large mirror that was plastered on the wall. he looked himself up and down, turning to examine his reflection at different angles. he looked…different, but he couldn't deny the fact that you definitely had good taste. the light blue long sleeved button up hugged his muscular frame nicely, accentuating his broad shoulders and torso while the white linen pants fit him like a glove everywhere.

he pulled open the curtain, revealing his new outfit to you. “i feel like a private school teacher.” his voice was deadpanned, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the door frame. you looked up from your phone, eyes trailing over his body in approval before your face twisted into a satisfied smile. "a hot private school teacher.” you countered back with raised eyebrows, walking over to him.

“so you like the outfit, yeah?” he hummed simply, watching as you stood in front of him, tilting your head to the side to look at him better. “hmm.” you hummed, pursing your lips in thought as your fingers slid across the buttons of his shirt.

he raised an eyebrow at your thoughtful expression, watching the way your fingers trailed along his frame, grazing his shoulders and across his chest in slow, careful movements. rafe cleared his throat softly. “what? you don't like it?” he asked, watching you with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

“no, i like it.” you replied almost immediately, your fingers sliding up to trace the length of his collarbone before finally meeting his gaze. your eyes scanned over him intensely, taking in every inch of his new outfit. “it just needs accessories...a watch, maybe. but you've got plenty of those at home so we don't need to get any.”

a soft chuckle escaped his lips at your response, his arms uncrossing to rest on your hips as he leaned against the wall. “that I do.” he murmured, nodding in agreement. it was a common occurrence; the fact that you liked to dress him as if he were a doll. it was annoying at times, but he let you do whatever you wanted anyways. as long as it made you happy and kept you off his ass, he didn't care. he was a good boyfriend, after all.

he glanced over the pile of clothing that sat on the benches of the changing room, letting out a short breath of air before turning back to you. “'m gonna try the rest of these clothes on, you go pick yourself out somethin”

“i don't need any new clothes.” you said matter of factly, reaching to straighten a few wrinkles on his shirt as an excuse to touch him. “i have plenty. and i don't see anything i like.”

he let out a sigh, gently grabbing your hands and pulling them away from his chest, his fingers lightly gripping your wrists. “sweetheart,” he started, his voice patient but stern and leaving no room for argument, “i said to go pick somethin for yourself. cause we're not leaving til you do. ‘m not gonna get all these clothes without you getting anything for yourself. and stop the ‘i don't see anything’ bullshit. you see something you like every time we go into a store like this.”

you were about to protest, but the look in rafe's eyes and the firmness in his voice stopped you. for the most part, rafe always catered to your wishes and desires, doing whatever you asked of him. you knew that, and he knew that. he wasn't one to go against you. but when he wanted something, or rather, demanded something, you knew better than to argue.

once you nodded in reluctant compliance, his grip gently loosened on your wrists. "okay,” he drawled, a slight twinge of satisfaction in his voice. “now go. be back here in a couple minutes.” he let go of you completely, nudging you in the direction of the aisles of clothing. “go find yourself something pretty. specifically something that'll make tits look good.”

you rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to flip him off, knowing that it would only spur his nasty ass on more. you opened your mouth to protest, already knowing what his selection would consist of, but he cut you off before you could speak. “ah ah ah,” he tutted, pressing his index finger against your pouty glossed lips. “c'mon, just go do it, baby.”

he raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for a response from you. when you pressed your lips together in a frustrated pout and murmured an “okay”, he smirked at your compliance, a soft victorious chuckle leaving his lips. “good girl.” he hummed deeply, removing his finger from your mouth before giving your ass a gentle pat. “now go.”

the next hour is spent with rafe trying on the rest of the clothes you picked out, getting your very necessary opinion on them while you wandered the store and grabbed anything that caught your eye. you both ended up walking out with six bags a piece—all of which he payed for with the swipe of his card.

taglist 🪽: @bunbun-3 @drewscoquette @untitled10351 @rafesweetie @meetmebehindthemallrafe @supercutelovergirl @drewswife @plaidcowboy @missquantic @rafesdiorperfume @minitarayummy @this-one-weeb @akobx @mystianqel @lacebambidoll @dolletebun @amterasuu @milamilkie

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 2 days ago

Text

Morning Kisses.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!!

authors note - happy birthday to my one true love, honestly, can’t put into words how much he, his music and just his being has had an effect on my life. here’s to thirty-one!! 🥂

word count - 700.

in which, it’s the morning of harry’s birthday and what better way to wake him up then with kisses.

The early morning light seeps through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. The world outside is still quiet, the city not yet stirring, but here, in the warmth of your shared bed, time feels suspended.

You wake first, your body instinctively curling closer to his before your eyes even open.

Harry lies beside you, his breathing slow and steady, his face softened in sleep. His curls are tousled against the pillow, a few stray strands falling over his forehead.

The faintest shadow of stubble dusts his jaw, and in the gentle light, you can see the way his lashes fan against his skin. His lips, slightly parted, hold the trace of a peaceful dream.

Thirty-one today.

A thought that lingers in your mind as you take him in, memorising every detail, as if you haven’t done this countless times before.

His bare shoulder peeks from beneath the duvet, the curve of it strong yet relaxed in slumber. The rise and fall of his chest is steady, reassuring. The warmth of him radiates beneath the covers, a familiar comfort that has long since become home.

You reach out, barely brushing your fingers over his arm, the heat of his skin meeting yours in a silent connection.

Carefully, you reach up and brush a stray curl away from his forehead, your touch featherlight, not wanting to wake him just yet. But you can’t help yourself—the quiet adoration swelling in your chest demands to be expressed.

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to his temple, lingering just a second before moving down to the bridge of his nose, then his cheek, your lips barely grazing his warm skin.

You’re just about to press a kiss to his lips when a deep, raspy voice interrupts you.

"Are my lips going to get a kiss as well?"

His voice is thick with sleep, slow and heavy, his words melting into the quiet of the morning. His lips curve slightly, eyes still closed, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, like he’s been awake just long enough to feel you moving against him, to soak in the affection you so freely give.

Your heart stirs at the sound of him, the warmth of him, the way his presence alone can make you feel like the safest, softest thing in the world. He shifts slightly, his body stretching beneath the duvet, muscles flexing as he sinks further into the pillows, waiting.

And, of course, you oblige.

There is a softness in your embrace, a tender interplay of delicate touches that transcends the need for words. The gentle rustle of sheets accompanies every subtle movement, as you press your lips against his ones.

The closeness of your bodies creates an intimate cocoon, where the only language is that of touch—a language that tells of love, adoration, and the beauty of shared vulnerability.

Time seems to dissolve in the cocoon of this quiet moment, as you explore the contours of his face with soft, lingering kisses.

The intimacy of the make-out session evolves naturally—a slow, meandering journey through the realms of affection and desire.

Every soft, deliberate caress of your lips, every tender press against his skin, feels like a silent vow to cherish him on this day and always.

In these moments, the world beyond the confines of your bed fades away. There is only the gentle interplay of warmth, the quiet murmur of your heartbeats, and the soft interplay of skin and breath.

The morning air, cool and crisp against the heat of your shared passion, lends a surreal quality to the experience, as if the very elements of nature have conspired to celebrate the love that fills the room.

As you lose yourself in the blissful intimacy of the moment, your heart overflows with gratitude for this shared life—a life where each birthday becomes a gentle reminder of the love and tenderness that defines you both.

With every kiss, every soft, lingering touch, you reaffirm the silent promise of devotion and the timeless beauty of being in each other’s arms on this, his special day.

“What do you want to do for your birthday, sweet boy?” You muse, pressing one last kiss to his lips.

He smirks at you. “— I have a few ideas.”

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glambots · 3 days ago

Text

BUBBLE, BUBBLE, MOON'S IN TROUBLE

Moondrop/Reader

Rating: SFW

Wordcount: 5k

A commission for @semidemi-minigod !! In which you give Moon a bath. But from Moon's POV.

It was difficult to say when it all started.

When he’d allowed himself to become so complacent. So vulnerable.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant feeling. But you made it easier. Somehow.

Even now, when all he wanted was to slink away into the dark, far away from your pleading eyes and pursed lips.

“Come on, Moon. Please? You can look at it all if you want to. I won’t stop you. It’s really good stuff. Like, expensive stuff.”

You moved around the cleaning cart, picking up and brandishing several different items in his direction, with all the nervous excitement of a salesman trying to land a deal.

His eyes moved over each object laid out, atop the cart’s surface. Towels, fluffy and white. Bottles of cleaning solutions. Metal polish. Different kinds of scrub brushes. A few toothbrushes…?

He didn’t recognize any of the brands, which meant that they came from outside the Pizzaplex.

“…You bought these?” Cautiously, he picked up one of the little canisters and held it between his thumb and forefinger, turning the balm canister round-and-round like it was an oversized coin.

Polish cream. The fancy aluminum tin flashed under the dim lights, like the spark of a distant star.

“Yeah, I got them all from a hardware place that was nearby.” You smiled, hands roving over the assortment to grasp one of the smaller hand towels. His head tilted a bit when you held it out to him, a lopsided smile gracing your flushed cheeks.

“Feel these! I swear, I have never felt towels as soft as these.”

Curiosity burning, Moon placed the polish back down and reached for the towel. He fingered the soft, fluffy fabric in a bit of awe. It was much nicer than the old, tattered rags they had stashed away in the Daycare. Cleaner, too.

“They’re Egyptian cotton.” Your grin grew wider. “I got you a couple of sets, so you can keep some in storage for when they each get worn out.”

“…Keep?”

“Well…yeah! I mean, they’re yours now.” You gestured at the whole of the collection. “All of this is. I mean, I can keep it if you don’t have any room. But this is all for you. You and Sun, I mean. Obviously.”

He looked back and forth between you and the cleaning cart, utterly bewildered.

And, more than that, suspicious.

“Why?”

He watched your expression twist into bemusement, before you sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes.

“Because I can.”

“What if we…don’t want it?” He couldn’t stop the hint of amusement that crept into his voice. Even if there was a little bit of truth to it. It felt…wrong to accept this.

You just pursed your lips, brows raising so high they nearly touched your hairline.

“Well, that’s too bad. Cause I already bought it, and the store won’t let me return it. Which means either you take it, or I’ll just throw it all away.”

He grunted, looking back over the collection.

“Liar-liar, pants on fire.”

“Nope!” You popped the “p,” giving him a little half-shrug. “I’ve got the receipt, and it says no refunds allowed. You wanna see it? I’ll show it to you.”

Moon grunted again, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his chin and cheek.

To take it…or not…

It would be a shame to let it all go to waste.

But! But. He had one more question to ask you.

“Why me? Why not Sun?”

He can’t help but spit the name with a bit of venom. Out of the two of them, wouldn’t Sun be the easier target? Easier to work with. Easier to talk to. A better fit.

Better…in every way.

The look you give him is hard to place. It’s not hurt, not pity…a little frustrated.

A little sad.

“Do you not…trust me?”

There it is again: that feeling of wanting to hide away. A little tickle of guilt burning through his wires and sliding between his gears. He didn’t like it when you looked at him like that.

“No.”

“No, you don’t trust me? Or no, you don’t not trust me?”

“…No.”

You sighed, pulling off the bear-eared cap on your head to run a hand through your already messy hair.

“Alright. Alright…I won’t force you to do it. I just…” You looked down at the cart, eyes misty and lip quivering a bit. Like you were trying not to cry. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

And like that, he feels something in him melt.

“Fine.” He folded his arms over his chest, as if they’d serve as any sort of defense. He hates the way his whole-body tickles with heat when the sadness on your face melts away into relief.

Because it’s unfamiliar. Different.

He knows for a fact that what he’s feeling is something that he’s not supposed to be able to feel.

And yet, you make him feel it.

And that frightens him.

“Make it fast.”

Guilt is there again, gnawing at his insides when you reach up to quickly wipe the rim of your eyes clear, a breathy laugh bubbling up from somewhere inside you. Just like that, you’re so happy.

“Alright! Okay. Okay. Um, I’ll start with the—I mean, what do you want me to start with? I’ve got all this stuff, and I didn’t even think about it. God, where do I start?”

Moon watches you flit around the cart, hands moving over each object in a frenzy. You finally look up after a moment, going still.

“Sorry. Just. Give me a second, I swear I know what I’m doing.” Your eyes move to the floor, like you’re searching for something. “Do you want to sit down?”

Silently, Moon reached behind him, grasping one of the small child-sized chairs, and pulled it out to sit on without breaking eye contact.

“Okay.” You chuckled, a rag in one hand, a bottle of cleaning solution in the other. He could feel the hesitancy in your movements as you approached, like you were afraid he’d bolt at any second. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

For a moment, you hesitated, as if trying to decide where and how to get started. Moon simply sat still, watching your hands and eyes shift from his face to his arms, to his chest, then back up.

“Hang on, I can’t do this kneeling—my back hurts too much for that.”

You grabbed an undersized chair and pulled it up across from him, gently taking one of his arms and spraying a light amount of the solution across it. Moon couldn’t detect any chemicals, but it did smell slightly…fresh?

“This is just water and soap,” you explained, gently running the rag across his forearm, rubbing it between his fingers and over his palm. “To get rid of the surface stains. After that, I’ll use the stronger stuff.”

For a moment, there was a silence that stretched between the two of you. He wasn’t sure if it was comfortable or not but was more than satisfied to simply watch your tiny hands work their way up and down his arm.

You swapped to the other arm, wiping it down gently from hand-to-shoulder, then paused.

“Do you want me to do your chest or back first?”

Your voice was soft, gentle and coaxing.

Moon looked down at his arms, flexing his fingers as he thought for a moment.

“…Back.”

“Alright.”

Carefully, you placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, running the washcloth over his broad back. Moon twitched, an odd tingle rushing through his wires at the sensation of your palm rubbing little circles around the spot where the hook to his line protruded. He tried to ignore it, but you stopped again, having noticed.

“Sorry, is that uncomfortable?”

“No.” He scrambled for an excuse. “…It tickles.”

“Oh.” From the corner of his eye, he could see a tiny smile cross over your face. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”

“We’re not,” he replied, maybe a little too fast. “Just…sensitive.”

“Sure.” The tone in your voice betrayed that maybe you didn’t entirely believe him, but you didn’t push the issue. He was thankful for that.

The thought of your little hands coasting along his metal body, trying to find vulnerable spots to attack and manipulate—it made his head spin. That was the last thing he needed right now.

Things were quiet again, as you slid the rag over the thin pieces of metal that made up his hinged neck. Anxiety raced through his system as your hand moved dangerously close to the back of his face-plate—where the switch sat.

One wrong move (or maybe, one purposeful move) and he’d be forced into Rest Mode.

“Careful—” Before he could stop himself, his hand flew up, snatching your thin wrist. “Not there.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry…” You quickly jerked back, panic flashing in your eyes. “D-Did I hurt you?”

He searched your face for any sign of wrongdoing. Something to latch onto.

He found nothing.

“…No.” Moon finally said after a moment, letting your wrist go. He felt a little bad as he watched you rub it, knowing that he’d probably held on a little too hard. “Just…not there.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You scooted around the edge of the chair, rag hovering just below the edge of his neck ruffles. “I’ll start on your chest now, okay?”

He didn’t say anything but leaned his head back to give you more room. That, and to keep from having to watch you run the cloth over the expanse of his chassis. Just the feeling of it was enough to have him balling his hands tight into fists at his sides.

There was so much intimacy in the action, as simple an action it was. Your face was so close, eyes squinted as you scrubbed at the stains splattered across his metal body. Sticky hands, paint, glue, dirt, grime—there was no telling what made up the mass of it all. But the feeling of it being wiped away was a very pleasant one.

He felt lighter, almost. Like the weight of the stains were being peeled off him.

You were extremely gentle when your hands moved down to his waist, one holding him slightly in place, the other moving the cloth down his sides and across his stomach.

Moon squirmed again. If he’d had a stomach, it would have been fluttering. Full of butterflies.

“Sorry, I’m almost done.” You breathed softly, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

“It’s fine.” He lied.

A few more moments later, you finally leaned back, and Moon felt like he could breathe again. Not that he’d ever needed to in the first place. But whatever pressure had been hanging over his head was finally lifted away, if only momentarily.

You pulled out another bottle, gently drenching a small scrub brush across its surface with the oddly colored liquid. It smelled very strongly of disinfectant, and he flinched a little.

“This is the strong stuff.” You explained, offering him an apologetic smile. “It’ll get rid of the tougher stains—you don’t have a lot of them, so this part should be quick. I’ll try not to go too hard with it.”

“Do what you need to. We won’t run.”

This part of the cleaning process wasn’t quite as pleasant as the rag and soap. But you had been true to your word—your touch was gentle. Maybe too gentle.

“Harder.” He urged, after a while of watching you scrub at his arms. “We don’t have all night.”

You blew a few stray hairs out of your face. “I don’t know how you got this dirty. When was your last bath?”

He…couldn’t remember. So, he didn’t say anything at all.

You paused to glance up at him, but after it was apparent that you weren’t going to get a response, you turned back to scrubbing.

The bristles of the brush felt…strange, against his metal skin. Not painful. Just uncomfortable. It made him want to push your hand away, but he stopped short of doing so. You were just trying to help, and it wouldn’t do either of you good for him to make this difficult.

So, like a child sitting through a well-needed (but unwanted) haircut, he forced himself to simply sit there, squirming every so often.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you.” You finally said, your voice cutting through the silence. “I wish I could do something about the stains on your pants, but you probably wouldn’t want me to, uh…”

Your hands moved through the air, making vague gestures, before you just gave up and offered him a little half-shrug. “Mess with those.”

Moon had to think about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Once more, you paused, blinking rapidly. “What? Oh, uh—I was just joking!”

A spark of mischief fluttered in his chest. Your cheeks were flushing, the rosy color reaching all the way up to the tips of your ears. You couldn’t look at him suddenly, and his internals picked up a rapid jump in heart rate.

“Nervous?” A giggle bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him, and he clicked his invisible tongue, wagging a finger in your face. “Naughty thing.”

The color on your face deepened to a shade that rivaled the ruby glow of his eyes.

“No! I mean—that’s not what I meant. Just—I just—” Your lips set in a thin line, breath coming quick and heavy.

“Want me to take them off?”

“What?”

He giggled again, quite enjoying the way your voice cracked.

“My…” His hands hovered for a moment, just above the hem of his pants. Then, he flipped them upwards, as if offering you his wrists. “Ribbons.”

Your face was so red that he wondered if you could even breathe properly. Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. Seeing you all flustered made that bouncy, electric feeling inside him tingle and spark.

For a moment, you just glared at him, shaking the scrub brush like you were considering smacking him with it. Then, you sucked in a breath, pinched the bridge of your nose, and slowly let it out again, lowering your would-be weapon.

“I hate you.”

He snickered again, reaching out a single finger to gently tap the tip of your nose. “Liar.”

You love me.

The words were caught in his nonexistent throat. He could say it, to push your buttons even further, but something held him back. Hesitation.

He wasn’t…quite ready to push it that far, yet.

You sighed dramatically, placing the scrub brush aside, only to reach for one of the toothbrushes he’d seen earlier.

“Are we playing dentist?”

“You’re half right.” Amusement sparkled in your eyes. “This is for, like, getting into the tiny places. The seams between your fingers and stuff. I’ll be using it on your face, too, so…”

“You came prepared.”

You grinned. “I told you I did.”

“All this for little old me?” He struck a bashful pose.

“Yes, you absolute goober. Now hold still…”

The feeling of the toothbrush sliding into his seams was much more pleasant than the scrub-brush. It still tickled, enough to make him twitch now and then, but it wasn’t overwhelming.

You were so gentle with the motions, making sure to get every nook and cranny that you could work the bristles into. Moon was a little shocked to see just how much grime the brush was picking up, but then again—it had been a very long time since they’d gotten any sort of attention in the “appearances” department.

Every time you swapped to a new area, you dip the brush into a small container of cleaner, swirling it around and wiping away the dirt from the surface of the bristles. But even with such meticulous attention to detail, it didn’t take long for it to become too dirty to keep using.

You ran through at least three brushes before you stopped to take a break.

“Seriously, how the hell did you guys get so dirty?”

Moon could only shrug. There were several components that contributed to their current state, but the biggest offender was plain out negligence.

You sighed and shook your head, grabbing a thermos from behind the stack of bottles and tipping it back. His eyes followed the movement of your throat every time you swallowed—a strange voyeuristic feeling.

A rivulet of water dripped from the corner of your mouth, rolling down your chin, then your throat, then over the dip of your clavicle and down beneath the collar of your shirt…he tore his gaze away. Focused on flexing his hands in his lap, then folded them together and squeezed, one foot tap-tap-tapping away, anxiously.

“Phew! God, I’m sweating like crazy. Is it okay if I take this off?” You fingered the neckline of your shirt with one hand, using the other to fan yourself with your hat.

He really wanted to say no. Because that would make him feel weirder.

But he couldn’t, when you looked at him like that. So earnest and innocent.

Moon nodded silently, looking away once more when you reached for the buttons. It felt…wrong, to watch you undo them. The sound of fabric rustling had his foot tapping just a bit faster.

“Okay! I’m good now.” You stretched your arms up above your head with a little moan. “God, that’s so much better.”

Moon found it hard to look at you directly, now that you were sitting there in a tank top. It wasn’t anything salacious, it was just. So intimate. There was so much more visible skin now, and his eyes kept moving over the muscles in your arms, across the curve of your abdomen…

The shape of your body was so much clearer now, and that made him feel…almost shy.

“Alright, last up is your face. I’m gonna have to get a little bit closer—is that okay?”

That was not okay. His system was on high alert.

But what was he supposed to say? You’d already gone this far, he couldn’t just say no. Despite really, really wanting to.

For a moment he felt the gears in his head grinding, a substitution for the teeth and jaw he lacked. The tension in his body felt like a rubber band pulled too tight, seconds away from snapping. It got worse when he forced himself to nod, only able to muster up a little grunt of affirmation.

“Alright. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. He did.

This was just. Too close.

You slid off the children’s chair, half-kneeling with one of your legs on the ground, a knee between his legs to balance yourself.

Too close. It was too close.

You reached up, rag in hand. Your fingers gently cupped the side of his face, feather-light touch sending sparks through his body.

Too. Close.

He felt his whole body go stiff as you pressed the soapy rag to his cheek.

Carefully, you moved it up to his forehead, then down to his chin. Warmth trailed down the metal of his face, burning in the wake of your touch. So hot that he almost couldn’t stand it.

Your eyes moved over his face as you swapped sides, smoothing down the crescent curve of his nose so delicately that it tickled. If he’d had the ability to sneeze, he probably would have.

“Sorry.” Your teeth dug lightly into your lower lip. “I know this is a lot. You’re doing a great job, Moonie.”

That did not help his situation at all.

Your praise struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he clenched his fists so tightly in his lap that he felt his metal knuckles pop.

“I really appreciate you letting me do this for you. I really, really care about you.” You paused to suck in a little breath. “I mean that.”

He could barely hear what you were saying. It was like static was buzzing in his ears, growing louder by the moment. All he could do was focus on the shape of your lips as they formed around each word.

“I…” The words refused to come out, caught in his nonexistent throat.

“It’s alright.” You laughed a little, placing the rag aside and reaching for the final toothbrush. “You don’t have to force yourself. I’m almost done.”

That wasn’t it.

You were just so close. The warmth of your body, your smell, the shape of you…it was suffocating him. If he leaned in, just a little bit more, he’d be able to wrap his arms around you, to feel the softness of your skin against his—

The abrupt tickle of the toothbrush rubbing against the seam in his faceplate made him jerk back.

“Sorry! Sorry.” You scoot forward, the hand on his cheek holding him in place a bit more firmly. “I’m almost done.”

Your body heat is suddenly all around him, then. You’re leaning up in his lap, both knees on the chair, straddling his leg. He can catch the scent of shampoo on your hair, scented lotion on your skin. He could count every lash framing your eyes. Feel the heat of your breath on his teeth—

His hands hover in the air, fingers twitching sporadically, just inches away from gripping you by the waist.

He wants to tell you to back up. But his invisible tongue is tied in knots.

He can’t stop looking at your face. Staring at you, as you maneuver the brush into the little dots lining his crescent-sloped nose.

“You have the cutest freckles.” You say, your lips turning up at the corners.

His body makes a strange noise. A low, grinding metallic sound that could be as much a growl as it could a whine.

That’s all the warning you get before he leans in, gripping you tight by the shoulders, and all but mashes his face against yours in a pathetic facsimile of a kiss.

It lasts for only a few seconds, but those seconds feel like an eternity. The softness of your lips against his hard, unyielding smile has his processor running at full tilt, fans blasting at full force inside of his chest, trying to chase off a heat that threatens to melt his insides into a gooey mess.

He was brought back to reality, then, as his brain caught up to his body.

Moon leaned back, shame burning through him. He slowly unfurled his hands from your shoulders, bringing them up to cover his face.

Why had he done that?

“M-Moon, I—what—”

Your voice is so small, trembling, and that just makes it so much worse.

“No, no.” He rasped, clawing at his cheeks. You stumbled back as he scrambled out of the chair, knocking it over in his haste to put distance between the two of you. “Against the rules. It’s wrong. Shouldn’t have done that. No, no, no—”

“Moon, stop.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid—” Everything was spiraling. The gears inside his head grind so hard that it hurts.

He had you. He had something good. And he ruined it.

Sun was right. He ruined everything.

He always ruined everything good.

“Moon, stop!” Your fingers twine through his own, trying to pry his hands from his face. He can hear the panic in your voice. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“This is bad. This is wrong. It’s wrong.” He wanted to hide. He wanted to crawl into the dark, curl up in the shadows, and stay there forever. Away from you. Away from the good thing that he ruined. His fingers try to find purchase on something, anything, to grab and pull and break. “Wrong, wrong, wrong—”

“Moon…!”

He feels your fingers curl in the thin fabric of his neck ruffles—and then you yank.

The kiss is clumsy, teeth clicking against teeth as your lips smash against his plastic smile.

Everything in him screeches to a violent, almost painful halt. You’re kissing him.

And you keep kissing him.

Every kiss is hard and passionate, lips moving across his face as far as you can get to, standing on your tiptoes. He feels you stumble a little as you lean up into him, and his hands instinctively land on your waist to help you keep your balance.

“Wait, we can’t—”

“Sit.” You command.

He sits, following your will like the loyal, obedient dog that he is. He can see the chair he knocked over in front of him, sitting in what was your seat, but that view is quickly blocked when you climb into his lap. Your hands are trembling as they cup the sides of his face.

For a moment, your mouth opens and closes. Your brow furrows. You look like you want to say something, but no words come out.

So instead, you lean in and kiss him again.

And he lets you. He holds your tiny waist in his hands and leans into your touch, allowing the chaos filling his mind to simply melt away as you pepper kisses across his face.

Cheeks, nose, forehead, smile, eyebrows, chin. Back and forth and up and down and over and over—every kiss has his head spinning.

One of his large, metal hands come up to cradle the back of your head, urging you even closer. His fingers thread tenderly through your hair. Amongst the chaos, your hat is knocked free, falling to the wayside.

The heat of your body burns so hot through the thin fabric of your tank-top, and with the other hand, he gently squeezes the flesh of your side. A part of him wants to slide his fingers lower, to dip his hand beneath the shirt to feel the soft skin beneath.

It’s hot, it’s hot, it’s so hot he can’t stand it—

But then he feels your tongue slide across the thin curve of his lower lip, and he jerks back in shock. The thin line of saliva connecting your lips to his snaps.

“I, uh—ha..ha-ha…” You laugh a little as you rush to stand, quickly reaching up to wipe the drool from your mouth. Your lips are bruised red and a little puffy, cheeks flushed a pretty pink color. “Sorry, I-I got a little…uh, carried away.”

“Naughty.” Moon purrs, wagging a finger at you playfully. “Naughty boy.”

He feels so light and…and happy. That’s the only way he can put the bubbly, buzzy, excited feeling running all through his body. He’s happy.

“Was that…was that okay? That I…did…that?”” You can hardly look at him, eyes darting back-and-forth. He can feel you starting to pull back slightly, and his fingers curl possessively over the curve of your hip, keeping you tethered.

“…Maybe.” He muses, head cocking to the side. “Maybe not.”

“Oh.” Your face falls.

“Maybe you should…do it again.” His head tilted to the other side. “To make sure.”

He can’t help but giggle when obvious relief washes over your face.

“You…” Again, your lips move, not quite forming around words, like whatever you’re trying to say won’t quite come out. You settle with an awkward, lopsided smile. “So, it is okay? That I kissed you?”

Moon nodded, swaying lightly in his seat. “Yes. It’s…okay.”

He really wishes you would do it again.

“Okay. Okay! Good. I-I’m…yeah.” You laugh nervously, your cheeks still stained pink. Your grin stretches from ear-to-ear. Then you look up at him, and your expression morphs into an apologetic smirk.

“Cause now I’ve gotta clean your face off again.”

He stops swaying.

“Ah….” Moon can’t stop the little unhappy grunt that escapes him. He can still feel the sensation of each kiss buzzing against his metal skin. “Do you have to?”

“Yes, Moon, I have to.” You chuckle again, once more reaching for the cleaning supplies. “You can’t walk around with drool all over your face.”

“I’ve done it before.”

You fix him with a look. “You can’t walk around with MY drool all over your face.”

“Boo.” He crossed his arms, slumping back in a dramatic pout. His hat slumped over his face, the bell jingling as it bounced off his nose. “You’re no fun.”

A little whistle of air escapes your nose as you settled the other chair in front of him, scooting forward until your knees were touching. You reach up, gently moving the bell back over the curve of his head and beckoned him forward.

Moon, of course, leans into your hand without hesitation.

And so, you resume where you’d left off, with you gently wiping away the remnants of your improvised make-out session.

“So. Um.” Your voice cracks a little. “Are we, like…I mean. Do you…like…me?”

“Yes.” He says simply.

“No, I mean. Uh.” You suck in a shaky breath, still struggling to look him in the eye. “Like…like-like. Do you like me. In “that” way? Like—like “that”?”

He’s not sure how he didn’t make that clear. He thought that he had.

But you look like you want to sink into the earth right now, so he can’t help but tease you a little bit.

“Maybe.” Moon crooned, daintily folding his hands between his knees and swaying side-to-side. “Do you like-like me?”

He can hear the breath catch in your throat, and you look away quickly, face flushing an even deeper shade of red.

So very cute.

“Y-Yeah. I do. A lot.” You inhale slowly, forcing your eyes to meet with his. “I-I care about you, a lot, Moon. You’re…you’re my best friend and I…I like you. A lot.”

He stops swaying (again).

“Hm. Good.”

Before you can react, he leans forward to gently bump his smile against your forehead. You, of course, stare at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

“I like you…too.”

For a second, you look like you’re thinking about saying something—and Moon simply giggles when you lean in to kiss him again.

Maybe, if he asks nicely, he can keep this one.

243 notes · View notes

pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 3 days ago

Text

When You Call Them Clingy| Hyungline Pt2

Hyungline x Gn! Reader

(sorry this took like forever lmao ive been going through it in life unfortunately💀💀💀 )

Bangchan

The hum of the studio was still present, but now it felt different- less like a comforting embrace and more like static electricity prickling your skin.

The once-warm atmosphere had turned cold, muted, and the silence stretched like a chasm between you and Chan.

He didn’t ask if you needed anything anymore. He didn’t look at you at all.

The first hour after your slip-up had been the worst. You’d sat there, staring at the screen of your phone, scrolling aimlessly to avoid looking at him. But your thoughts betrayed you, circling back to the look on his face when you’d called him clingy- the hurt in his eyes, the faint slump of his shoulders, the way his movements slowed, as though your words had drained the energy out of him.

This is almost unbearable... You thought to yourself. I've never been uncomfortable around Chris before, rather the complete opposite...I don't like this.

You had apologized in your head a dozen times already, running over how you could bring it up without making things worse. But every time you glanced his way, you found yourself frozen, the words dying in your throat.

I was harsh...I'm feel horrible...

Chan wasn’t usually one to sulk, but this was different. He didn’t seem angry-he didn’t snap or lash out.

Although you wished he would have. It may have been better than this thick tension.

But instead of yelling or cursing, he buried himself in his work, shutting you out completely. His usual hums and absentminded muttering as he worked were nowhere to be found. The tapping of keys and the occasional adjustment of a dial were the only sounds that filled the room.

It felt unbearable.

After almost two hours of sitting in silence, the tension was too much. You shifted in your chair, swallowing the lump in your throat as you finally spoke up.

“Chan,” you said softly, your voice hesitant.

He didn’t respond immediately. His fingers paused over the keyboard, but he didn’t turn to look at you.

“Yeah?” he said, his tone neutral- too neutral.

You winced. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh earlier. I-” You rushed out.

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, his voice tight, clipped.

But it wasn’t fine. You could hear it in the way his words came out too quickly, the way he immediately went back to typing as though he hadn’t just brushed you off.

Serves me right...

You tried again. “It’s not fine. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He let out a breath, finally turning his chair to face you. His expression was guarded, a carefully constructed mask of calm, but his eyes gave him away.

“Look,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I get it. I was being overbearing. I just…I thought I was helping. I'll ease up from now on."

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. He wasn’t trying to defend himself- he was agreeing with you, accepting blame where there wasn’t any to take.

And you didn't want him to agree.

“You- you were helping,” you said quickly. “I was just… overwhelmed, and I didn’t think before I spoke. I-I don't want you to ease up...I love you the way you are.”

Chan nodded slowly, but the way his jaw tightened told you he wasn’t convinced.

“Sometimes I overdo it,” he said, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know how to…not worry about the people I care about. Or love.”

Your heart sank. He wasn’t just talking about you. He was talking about himself, about how he carried the weight of everyone’s needs on his shoulders, even when it wasn’t his responsibility.

“And I made you feel like you couldn’t breathe,” he added, almost to himself.

“No,” you said quickly, leaning forward. “That’s not what I meant. You’re always so thoughtful, Chan. I just…” You trailed off, struggling to put your feelings into words. "I...uh...damn it..."

He tilted his head, waiting for you to continue, but there was a distance in his gaze now- an invisible barrier you hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing something wrong,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “Because you’re not. I was just having a bad day, and I-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted again, standing abruptly. “It’s getting late. I should wrap this up anyway.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his tone.

It wasn’t angry, but it was dismissive.

Final.

“Chan-”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You should get some rest. I’ll finish up here.”

The dismissal stung more than you expected. You stood up, hesitating for a moment, unsure if you should push further or give him space. But the way he had already turned back to his desk made the decision for you.

“Okay,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible.

You grabbed your bag and made your way to the door, glancing back one last time. Chan was hunched over his keyboard, his back to you, the soft glow of the monitor casting shadows across his face.

“Goodnight,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond.

As you headed out he called out.

"Y/N."

You turned towards him, hopeful.

"You don't have to come tomorrow. Ji...sung-ah and...Innie-ah are supposed to be here to work on something with me."

You sighed and bit the inside part of your lip. He was terrible at lying.

Then a small rush of unrighteous anger hit you.

"Thats okay, I had plans anyways." You shot back, leaving. You almost missed the surprised look as he lifted his head from his bag.

The walk home was a blur. The guilt in your chest felt heavier with every step, suffocating you until you could hardly breathe.

But now that guilt stemmed from also saying something to purposefully provoke him.

Why would I even say that? I have no reason to be mad- but he...he has all the reason to be.

You thought about texting him, but what could you say? Nothing you typed out felt like enough. Apologizing once wasn’t going to fix this.

And you were too prideful to admit your pettiness.

It's embarrassing...

When you finally got home, you dropped your bag by the door and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. You replayed all the moments over and over in your head, wishing you could go back and choose different words, wishing you could make him understand how much he meant to you.

But then your anger driven words hit you. You just loved digging yourself deeper graves. So, you pulled out your phone and shot a text.

Deciding that if you were at a standstill with each other, you at least wouldn't lie to him.

——————————————————————————

Minho

The next morning, you woke up feeling a mix of guilt and lingering irritation. Sleep hadn’t come easy, your mind replaying the events from the previous night like a broken record. You had lashed out, hurt him, and now there was this gnawing uncertainty about where things stood.

You debated texting Minho to apologize, but the thought of his cold tone from last night stopped you. The memory of his quick, hollow kiss on your temple was like a dull ache in your chest- a reminder of how much damage had been done.

You sighed as you reached for your phone, jumping when you see a text from Minho.

Minho: Dori didn't even wait for me to finish preparing his breakfast before eating Soonie's. Such a menace.

You stared at the text for a long moment, unsure of what to make of it. It wasn’t unusual for him to send updates about his cats, but this felt like an attempt to return to normalcy without directly addressing what had happened.

Should I respond? Should I apologize? You wanted to, but the thought of putting your emotions into words felt daunting.

Instead, you liked the message, telling yourself you’d figure it out later. But as the day dragged on, and you found yourself unable to focus on anything. By the evening, your phone buzzed, breaking you from your thoughts.

Minho: Did you eat?

The question was simple, almost routine, but it held a strange weight. And you were unsure how to respond.

Was this his way of reaching out, or was he just trying to check a box out of habit?

You hesitated before typing back: You: Yeah. Did you?

His reply came almost immediately: Minho: Mhm. Chan-hyung made japchae. Ate while working. Minho: Also, three cups of pudding.

You couldn't help but let out a little giggle. You could picture him in his studio, his face reflected in a the mirrors, as he sat crisscross on the dance floor, scribbling choreo ideas, spoon in one hand and a cup of pudding beside him. The image tugged at your heartstrings in the way only a lover could do.

You: Busy day? Minho: Always.

You sighed and rested your head on the back of your couch.

Short. Not necessarily clipped, but there were no teasing or playful jabs. No emojis. Just facts. It felt so unlike him, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You could feel the awkwardness as if he was sitting in the room with you.

You: I’m sorry about last night. You typed out a response, then deleted it, then typed it again. Finally, you settled on: You: I miss you.

The three dots signaling his response appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared. You held your breath, waiting.

Minho: Yeah...

You: I'm sorry.

Minho: It's fine.

It wasn’t fine. You knew that. The lack of warmth in his reply was enough to confirm it.

You: It doesn’t feel fine. Minho: Maybe it’s not...

There it was. The crack in the veneer. Your chest tightened as you stared at his words. You wanted to fix it, to make it right, but you didn’t know how.

You: Can we talk? Minho: Not right now. I’m tired.

The conversation ended there. You stared at the screen long after his reply, the words “I’m tired” echoing in your mind. It wasn’t just physical exhaustion he was talking about. He was emotionally drained, and you were the reason.

You: Okay, goodnight. I love you. Minho: Night. I love you too.

Over the next two weeks, things didn't get much better.

You hadn't seen him in person, and only had a few video calls where anytime you tried to bring up an apology, Minho deflected the conversation.

It felt like more of an awkward and intimate friendship interacting rather than a couple. And you needed to change that. You couldn't handle it. You missed your boyfriend.

Minho had always been steady, a constant in your life. You hadn’t realized how much of a lifeline he was until you cut it with a single careless word.

Clingy.

The way his expression had shifted when you said it- it haunted you. Minho, who rarely let his emotions crack the surface, had been hurt. You’d seen it, felt it in the way he pulled back from you. And you wanted to pull him back towards you.

That’s what brought you to his house a few nights later, your chest tight with desperation and dread. You didn’t have a plan, just a need to be near him, to try and fix what you’d broken.

The porch light cast a faint glow as you arrived, the sight of it familiar yet unsettling. You hesitated at the keypad, your fingers trembling as you entered the code. For a moment, you feared he might have changed it, but the lock clicked open with a soft, mechanical hum.

The sound felt louder than it should have in the quiet night, and your heart ached with the thought that you still knew this house so well.

You stepped inside, the warmth of the entryway doing little to ease the chill in your bones.

“Minho?” Dori was the only cat by the door, immediately rushing to you to rub up against your legs. "Min?"

Your voice was soft, tentative, as you slipped off your shoes and into slippers, but it went unanswered.

The faint murmur of voices reached you from the living room. You moved toward the sound, your footsteps hesitant.

And then you saw them.

She was sitting on the couch, her laughter carrying easily in the stillness of the house.

Minho was beside her, close enough that the space between them seemed insignificant. His expression, one that had been so cold and was open-relaxed in a way you hadn’t seen in minute.

Your stomach twisted painfully, the scene before you crashing down like a tidal wave.

You must have made a sound, because Minho’s head turned sharply in your direction. His eyes widened, surprise etched across his face.

“Y/N?”

The girl followed his gaze, her expression a mix of confusion and mild curiosity.

You froze, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“I-” The words caught in your throat, your mind scrambling to come up with an explanation for why you were here, standing uninvited in his doorway.

“Y/N-ah, wait-” He said, scrambling up from the couch, tripping over Dori who had decided to join the party.

But you were already backing away.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said quickly, your voice cracking as you stumbled toward the door. You knocked into the cats water bowl, soaking your feet. The lump in your throat threatened to choke you, but you forced the words out. “I’ll just- go.”

Minho reached for you, his movements sharp and deliberate. “Don’t-”

You didn’t wait for him to finish, pulling away. The door slammed shut behind you, the cold air biting at your skin as you stepped into the night.

You didn’t realize you were still wearing the house shoes Minho had bought for you months ago until you were halfway down the street, your steps uneven on the pavement. The absurdity of it made your throat tighten, but the tears came before the laughter could.

Your vision blurred as you walked aimlessly, the weight in your chest pressing down until it felt hard to breathe. You could still see her face, hear her laugh. It was seared into your mind.

There is no way he could have moved on in just two weeks...right?

Could he have...no. Never.

But had he?

You didn’t know either way. And you couldn’t bring yourself to stay long enough to find out.

Back at the house, Minho stood frozen by the door. Doongie let out a soft mew, as if speaking.

"I know..." Minho said to the cat.

His jaw clenched as he stared at the space where you’d been, staring at where your shoes were left, your sudden departure leaving a suffocating silence along with them.

“Minho?” the girl called hesitantly, her voice breaking through the tension.

He turned to her, his expression unreadable.

“You should go.” he said finally, his tone flat.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t argue. She gathered her things quickly, giving Doongie a quick scratch, the sound of her footsteps fading as the door closed behind her.

Minho sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the wall. His gaze fell to the floor, and for the first time, he noticed the trail of damp footprints leading to the door- proof of your hurried escape.

You hadn’t even waited to hear him out.

He wanted to chase after you, to get an explanation for why you’d come in the first place.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he stood there in the silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on him; and he was stuck wondering how something you caused had now become a snowballed issue he needed to resolve.

——————————————————————————

Changbin

You sat there frozen, the echo of his quiet, defeated tone playing on a loop in your mind. It wasn’t like him to leave like that- without a fight, without reassurance, without trying to smooth things over. He had always been one to want to ease conflict in the calmest manner.

Your eyes drifted to the coffee table where his phone sat, screen dark and mocking in the dim light. He must’ve forgotten it in his rush to leave, and the realization sent a pang of guilt straight to your chest. You couldn’t even call him to try and make things right.

With trembling hands, you picked up his phone, turning it over in your palm. It was a small, insignificant thing, but it felt like the only connection you still had to him.

The weight of Hyunjin’s text was heavier now, replaying in your mind like a cruel taunt.

He had planned to propose tonight.

And you had ruined it.

You pressed the phone to your chest, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. You couldn’t stop picturing the way his face had fallen, the light in his eyes dimming with every word you’d said. The warmth he carried with him, the energy that filled every room he walked into, was gone. And it made you feel terrible.

Your hands tightened around his phone as you leaned back on the couch, your thoughts spiraling. Changbin wasn’t just a boyfriend- he was your safe space, your biggest cheerleader, the person who always knew how to make you laugh when you wanted to cry.

And tonight, you had been the one to make him feel small.

You let out a shaky breath, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. There was no way you could let things stay like this.

So, you got to work.

Changbin’s car coasted slowly down the street, the low hum of the engine the only sound in the otherwise quiet night. His mind buzzed, replaying every moment of the evening- your harsh words, the hurt in his chest, and the sudden shift in the air between you two. He could still feel the weight of your gaze, and your frustration.

He had tried so hard.

Maybe it is my fault...

He wanted to make the night perfect, make it something to remember. A sweet cute, relaxed proposal. Soft and warm and everything that represented the love he had for you.

But now he was left uncertain, second-guessing everything. The familiar streets blurred as his thoughts swirled, mixing with the disappointment and confusion still lodged in his heart. His grip tightened around the steering wheel.

As he pulled into his driveway, he killed the engine but didn’t immediately move. He sat there for a while, the headlights casting long shadows across the pavement. It was cold, but he didn’t feel it. Instead, his chest was heavy, a knot of frustration and sorrow gnawing at him.

I need to apologize. Maybe then-

Reaching for his phone, he noticed a slight tremor in his hands.

Is that the best thing to do though...what if Y/N-ie is still mad...

He spent the next couple minutes thinking about texting you- even though he hadn’t done anything inherintantly wrong.

But the thought of sending an apology and admitting to a fault he didn’t deserve seemed like the easiest way to get things back to normal.

He swiped the phone screen on, but his stomach dropped when he saw his empty hand. He reached to pat his pockets.

He didn’t have his phone with him.

He trailed his eyes at the empty seat next to him, hoping maybe it was there, as the realization hit him harder than it should’ve.

His phone was still on the couch at your place. He must’ve left it there in the rush to get away.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, the frustration and anxiety rising again.

He shifted the car back into gear, pulling out of his driveway and heading back to your apartment. As he drove, he let out a deep sigh, trying to shake off the weight pressing on him.

He didn’t know what to expect when he saw you again. He didn’t even know what he wanted from the rest of this night.

Back at your place, you were busy, but not in the way you had planned. You paced the living room, biting your lip as you nervously looked over the decorations you had hastily thrown together. You had wanted everything to be perfect for him, the way he’d promised it would be tonight, but now… you were the one fixing things.

You were the one putting the final touches on a proposal- his proposal.

Your heart flipped over and over in your chest, as you adjusted things anxiously.

You had to scrounge through a ton of different leftover decorations from previous events and holidays; and it looked like the spirit of every celebratory occasion had thrown up over your living room.

You had tried so hard to get it right, to show him how sorry you were that your nerves and selfishness had ruined everything.

When you heard the distant rumble of his car approaching, your heart skipped a beat. You quickly fixed your hair and wiped your hands on your pants, as if trying to make up for everything all at once.

You hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought through how you were going to apologize. You just knew you couldn’t let him walk away- couldn’t let him leave the night without fixing at least a small part of it.

The doorbell rang, and you froze, your pulse quickening in your throat.

You opened it, and there he was. Changbin. Standing there with an unreadable expression, his eyes flicking over your face before he looked down at the phone in his hand.

You didn't know if you imagined his red rimmed eyes.

“I-” he started, but the words faltered. He opened his mouth again, as if trying to say something, but nothing came out. "I left my phone."

You handed it to him, and he stood there awkwardly turning it in his hands.

"Bin, come in," you whispered, stepping aside to let him in.

He hesitated for a long moment, his feet still on the other side of the threshold, as if he were debating whether to leave or stay. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the uncertainty in his movements.

But then, with a deep sigh, he stepped inside.

You led him to the living room. His eyes stayed on the floor. He didn’t sit down, didn’t speak, just stood there.

"Y/N, I'm sor-"

"You don’t need to apologize," you said, voice barely audible as you walked toward him. You didn’t know how else to start. "I’m the one who messed up tonight. It wasn't you. It was all me."

Changbin shook his head, though it seemed like he was trying to process what he was feeling. He opened his mouth again, his voice hoarse. "No, it wasn't you. I…I didn’t mean for-"

"Changbin, don't fool yourself." You said with a sarcastic chuckle. "You know it was all my fault-"

"Y/N I was the one who was-"

"-I ruined your proposal. Of course it's my fault." You finished.

Your words stopped him. He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of everything hanging in the air between you.

"So you knew..." he murmured, his voice cracking just slightly.

"Hyunjin texted. I saw it on your screen."

Changbin sighed and then looked around, seeing the decorations.

"What..."

"Since I ruined your proposal I thought I could fix it. As an apology."

The air between you thickened suddenly.

"I-I know it's not the best or the prettiest, but I thought—"

His voice faltered as he looked up at you, eyes filled with something unreadable. Shock, confusion… and then something softer, something heavier.

"What…what did you do?"

You froze. Your heart pounded.

He was staring at everything—the decorations, the candles, the careful details meant for him to present to you.

"I thought… I'd throw something together," you repeated, your voice small. "To fix your proposal."

"Fix it?"

And in that moment, you realized just how wrong that had sounded.

"N-No! I meant fix the night. Not your proposal—nothing was wrong, I just—I ruined the moment, and—"

You were scrambling, desperate to explain.

"Binnie, I—"

"I understand, Y/N."

His quiet chuckle sent a chill through you. It wasn't warm, wasn't teasing. It was sad.

"You made another opportunity," he said, his voice steady but distant. "You set up a proposal."

"Yes! An opportunity, not-" But then you saw it. The rapid blinking, the slight shift in his expression. The way he swallowed hard, as if forcing down words he wouldn't let himself say.

And suddenly, it clicked.

He wasn't upset about your wording. He wasn't even upset that you'd tried to make things right. He was upset because you'd taken this from him. Because he had wanted to be the one to do this for you.

When you had called him clingy earlier, you had let your stressors guide you to insult what you loved most about him.

How he wanted to do everything for you.

His love language towards you always tended to be acts of service.

And while a proposal wasn't necessarily though, it made sense that he wanted to do this for you. One of the biggest acts of your two lives.

He wanted to gift it to you, and you took it away.

For a long, suffocating moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, without another word, he stepped back. His hands curled into fists, then relaxed. He exhaled, gaze flickering between you and the scene you'd set. And then he turned.

You barely processed it as he walked past you, his presence fading with each step toward the door.

"Binnie, wait-"

But he didn't stop. The door opened, and before you could find the right words, the ones that wouldn't make everything worse—

It clicked shut.

——————————————————————————

Hyunjin

The moment Hyunjin you shut the door, you felt a wave of regret crash over you. You stewed in your regret for a while before you succumbed to it.

You couldn't stand it.

You rushed out the door, hoping to catch up; even if it had already a bit since his departure. But you knew him, and he probably hadn't made it far, taking his long legs for granted and dragging out his journey.

You wanted to stop him, to explain, to make him see what you couldn't say- but your pride had already built a wall too high. The words you had snapped at him stung, but there was a fear settling deep within you, too. Fear of rejection, fear of the misunderstanding spiraling out of control.

Fear of losing him from a quick yet grave mistake.

The street was quiet, and your footsteps echoed in the empty space. You turned the corner, but in your rush, you hadn't paid attention to where you were going.

It seemed you had taken one wrong turn after another, and suddenly the comforting glow of the familiar streetlights was replaced with unfamiliar darkness.

Panic rose in your chest. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you fumbled to pull it out, only for it to die before you could see.

You cursed under your breath. Of course, it died. Why wouldn't it? Your mind was foggy, and you could barely focus on anything, let alone figure out where you were. The tightness in your chest felt suffocating, but you pushed through it.

You wandered a little until you found a cute little convenience store, stepping inside, letting the warmth encapsulate you. You decided to grab a snack while you charged your phone, the clerk so graciously allowing you to charge it behind the desk.

You figured while you ate you could figure out what to say to Hyunjin, to mend whatever crack you had caused.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin still felt the sting of your words settled deep in his chest. His jaw clenched as he shoved his hands into his pockets, walking briskly down the street.

It wasn’t fair. He had done nothing wrong, yet you had pushed him away like he was too much. Like his affection- his need to be close to you- was suffocating.

Me? Too much- HAH. As if.

You were just being bratty because you were in a bad mood...right?

I'm not actually too much am I?

And maybe it was dramatic, maybe it was childish, but he wanted you to chase after him. To call out his name, to grab his sleeve, to do something to prove you cared as much as he did.

But the street behind him remained quiet.

His throat tightened. His steps slowed.

You weren’t coming.

Hyunjin scoffed, shaking his head. Fine. If you weren’t going to run after him, then you could suffer.

He would make you grovel, make you look at him with those wide, guilty eyes and apologize.

Beg a little. Then - only then - he’d pull you into his arms, stroke your hair, kiss your forehead, and tell you it was okay.

Because at the end of the day, that’s all he wanted.

To make things okay again.

With a sigh, he turned back around, heading toward your apartment, already playing out how he’d drag this out just enough to make you squirm before giving in.

But when he got to your door, his smirk faltered.

The lights were off, but the door was cracked.

His brows knitted together as he stepped into a completely empty home.

You were supposed to be here. You were supposed to be sitting inside, stewing in guilt, waiting for him to come back so you could apologize properly.

His fingers twitched as he opened your bedroom door. He went to the bathroom and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked, a little harder this time.

Still nothing.

A flicker of unease crept up his spine. He pulled out his phone and called. It rang twice before going straight to voicemail.

Hyunjin swallowed. His throat was dry.

His mind raced through every possibility. Maybe you just went out for air. Maybe you ran to the convenience store. Maybe-

But his gut told him otherwise.

His gut told him something was wrong.

His fingers curled around his phone, knuckles white as he sucked in a sharp breath. His frustration, his plan to make you beg, his need to be dramatic- all of it evaporated, replaced by one single, overwhelming thought.

He needed to find you.

Now.

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

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy

taglist specific:

@darling-imobsessed @changbinismymuscledaddy @artist2181 @minniesverse @monbrigh @20staaa @aeri-skzver @noannah @skysole @chanssmiles @depressedarlling @

#skz imagines #skz stay #skz x reader #stray kids reactions #stray kids #skz fluff #skz reactions #skz #christopher bang #skz angst #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #skz hyung line #pnutbutternjelyy

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obito-in-disguise · 3 days ago

Note

How is my fav writer doing on this fine day 😈😈 Could you write sukuna x reader where she’s sleeping on him and bro is a softie (playing with her hair and saying how much he loves her and stuff) cuz he thinks she’s asleep. but at the end turns out reader was awake so he gets kinda shy or he’s like stfu u didn’t hear nothing THANK YOU😘😘

I'm fine bae thank you for asking 😩 this is so sweet, I hope you like it!

| In your dreams |

Reader catches Sukuna being a softie x

The room was quiet, lit only by the fading light of the dark blue evening sky.

Sukuna lay on his back, one arm cradling her against his chest, the other propped up behind his head.

Her breathing was slow and steady, warm against his skin. He should’ve been asleep by now, but his mind wouldn’t rest, not with her tucked so perfectly against him.

He lets his eyes trace the gentle curve of her face, memorizing every peaceful detail. Without thinking, he dipped his head and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. Once wasn’t enough. Another followed, softer, as though he feared waking her.

His hand wandered to her back, fingers gliding up and down in lazy strokes before moving to the back of her head, cradling it softly, messing with the soft tufts of hair there.

His brows furrow, pulling his expression into something almost pained.

“What did you do to me?” he whispered, the words barely audible. There was wonder in his voice, laced with disbelief at the depth of his own vulnerability. The King of Curses reduced to this, a man enamored beyond reason.

“I dunno...”

Sukuna froze. His hand stopped mid-stroke, his smile dropping along with his stomach as he stared down at her. “…What?”

Busted. Her eyelids fluttered, lips curling into a sleepy smirk. “I dunno,” she repeated, voice thick with drowsiness.

He tenses before immediately straightening his back, clearing his throat in a panic. “You’re such an active dreamer. Go back to sleep, Y/N.”

She blinked, confused. "What-"

“Shhh,” he cuts her off. “You were dreaming again. Go back to sleep.”

She can't help but snort at his weak cover-up. "No, I wasn’t."

"Yes you were"

“I literally felt you messing with my hair-”

“Dream” he insists firmly, the word coming out with a little too much force. “All of it.”

Her soft giggles sound out as she opens her mouth to tease him more.

He grunts, rolling them over before she can speak, trapping her underneath him. "Shut up. Go back to sleep, or I'll crush you."

She wraps her arms around him, wiggling to get comfortable. “If it'll make you feel better sap.”

This was the part where he'd pinch her or flick her nose for calling him a sap but he simply stares down at her, waiting for her to fall back asleep.

His chest tightened in that way it always did when she was this close. His thumb brushed her cheek gently before he leaned down, placing another soft kiss to her forehead once he was absolutely sure she was asleep.

“Whatever" he muttered under his breath, sighing. "I’ll be a sap for you.”

He shuts his eyes, the steady rhythm of her breathing lulling him to sleep.

Check out more of my jjk fics and other stories!

tiny taglist: @catlover19282

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #soft sukuna #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff

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prettylilyanime · 3 days ago

Text

Our Blessing ♡ Prologue

♡ Pairing: Toji Zenin x reader

♡ Synopsis: in which your ex boyfriend left you with your biggest blessing in life, or- a bundle of a blessing. And he doesn’t even know it.

♡ tags/warnings: 18+, (explicit content in later chapters) angst, and drama, exes to lovers, hidden baby trope, Toji is an asshole (but we love him), Reader just wants to raise Megumi in peace, CEO Toji, possessive Toji, emotionally constipated Toji, Tension, misunderstandings, Flashbacks to past relationship, Heavy themes of abandonment, trust issues, and redemption, baby Megumi is a cutie, Megumi is a mama’s boy, reader works at a flower shop, Hidden Baby Trope

♡ Masterlist ♡ Next

⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖

"Shit!"

The curse slips out before you can stop it as you stumble against the narrow, overstuffed hallway leading to the backroom of your little shop.

The bulky cardboard box in your arms wobbles precariously, the scent of freshly delivered daffodils wafting up as you struggle to keep your balance. For a moment, you fear disaster—flowers crushed, stems snapped, your pride bruised—but you manage to steady yourself just in time.

"Mama, that’s a bad word."

The reprimand is calm, almost casual, but the unimpressed side-eye that follows is devastating.

Seated by the shop’s wide front window, Megumi barely spares you a glance, his small frame bathed in the golden morning light. The sun catches in his dark lashes, making his ever-serious little face all the more heartbreakingly adorable.

You groan, already rubbing a hand down your face. "Damn—Yes, Megumi, I’m sorry." You cut yourself off before another curse can slip out, exhaling as you set the box down with a dull thud. Any more near-disasters like that, and you might actually break a hip.

Some mornings, you wake up feeling twice your age, your body aching from years of hauling flower crates, bending over counters, and chasing after an endlessly curious toddler. The weariness settles into your bones, a quiet reminder of just how much you juggle between running a business and raising a child on your own.

But then you glance at Megumi.

He sits by the shop window, his small fingers tracing absentminded patterns against the glass, bathed in the golden morning light. The soft glow highlights the curve of his cheeks, the thoughtful furrow of his brows as he watches the world outside. Your exhaustion melts just a little. You’d do it all over again—every sleepless night, every aching muscle—without hesitation.

Outside, the city hums with life. A gentle breeze rustles through the trees lining the sidewalk, carrying the scent of fresh flowers and warm pavement.

People stroll past, their neutral expressions softening into fond smiles when they catch sight of Megumi. A few wave through the window, but true to his nature, he merely blinks at them—stoic as ever—before returning to his quiet observations.

"Say, Megumi, what do you want for lunch today, hm?"

He pauses, tilting his head slightly in thought. His emerald-green eyes flick up to meet yours, considering, before he declares with certainty: "Dino nuggets."

You blink. "Dino nuggets? Again? But we just had them yesterday."

"Yeah," he says simply, as if that should be enough to end the discussion.

"Megumi, we can’t eat chicken nuggets every day. That’s not a balanced diet."

He frowns, tiny arms crossing. "I balanced it with fries."

You press your lips together, fighting back a snort. "That’s not how it works, honey. If you eat too many, a stomach bug might get you before bedtime."

He huffs, brows knitting together in frustration. "But dino nuggets make me feel good. And stomach bugs aren’t real."

That does it—you actually snort this time, biting down a laugh. Megumi’s sharp little side-eye nearly makes you lose it again.

"Okay, okay. How about this? We get pizza next door instead." You know it’s not the healthiest swap, but hey, at least it’s better than microwaved dino nuggets… right?

Megumi doesn’t look convinced at first, his small fingers still resting on the window as if debating whether or not this betrayal is worth arguing over. Then, his gaze flickers to you, studying your expression.

"Hmm." He makes a show of thinking before relenting with a dramatic sigh. "Okay… but I want ice cream too."

You shake your head with a chuckle.

With Megumi’s small hand tucked in yours, you push open the door to your store, the little bell above jingling softly as you step outside.

The late morning air greets you with a mix of warm sunshine and the faint scent of blooming flowers from your storefront display. The city hums around you—distant chatter, the occasional honk of a car horn, the rhythmic click of hurried footsteps on pavement.

Megumi stays close to your side as you walk the short distance next door, his tiny fingers gripping yours like second nature.

The pizzeria is a familiar comfort—Tano’s Pizza, a cozy little hole-in-the-wall with a chalkboard menu propped just outside.

The scent of fresh dough, bubbling cheese, and roasted garlic drifts through the slightly propped-open door, instantly making Megumi's stomach grumble.

You push inside, stepping onto worn wooden floors that creak softly underfoot. The walls are lined with framed newspaper clippings and faded photographs—snapshots of the restaurant through the decades.

At the front, a glass display case showcases bubbling slices fresh from the oven, the cheese still glistening under the heat lamps. Behind the counter stands a young employee, dressed in a slightly oversized apron and adjusting his cap as he notices the two of you walk in.

"Ah, it’s Megumi-kun!" the worker says, his voice light with familiarity. "Back again, huh? You’ve got good taste."

Megumi, naturally, doesn’t respond. He merely stares up at the man, then tilts his head ever so slightly.

The employee chuckles, undeterred. "Still not much of a talker, huh? No worries—let’s see if today’s pizza can win a word out of you."

You smile, ruffling Megumi’s hair. "He’s getting there. Slowly. Anyway, we’ll take two slices—one cheese, one pepperoni."

"And ice cream," Megumi adds, very seriously.

You sigh, shaking your head. "We’ll talk about that later."

The employee grins, already sliding two hot slices onto plates. You guide Megumi toward a corner booth by the window, the worn red leather seats creaking as you both settle in.

He swings his little legs beneath the table, fingers drumming idly against the surface as he watches the worker prepare the slices.

"Mama," he says after a moment, his voice quieter now, thoughtful.

"Hm?" You glance at him, mid-reach for a napkin.

"Pizza is better than dino nuggets."

You pause, blinking. Then, you huff a quiet laugh. "Oh? So all that fuss before was for nothing?"

Some days are exhausting. Some days, you wonder how you manage it all—balancing work, life, and motherhood like you’re walking a tightrope with no safety net.

But moments like this?

They make it all worth it.

The daytime sun streams through the wide windows, casting a soft glow over the checkered tile floor.

You take a sip of your drink, letting yourself relax, just for a moment.

Then the doorbell jingles.

It’s an unremarkable sound, the same chime that’s rung a dozen times since you sat down, but this time, when you naturally glance up, the air in your lungs turns to stone.

Two tall figures stroll in like they own the place. Crisp suits, easy smiles, and voices that haven’t changed a bit.

“God, Suguru, I’m starving,” the white-haired one groans, a hand resting lazily on his stomach as they walk toward the counter.

Satoru and Suguru.

Two ghosts from your past, standing just a few feet away, like time hadn’t torn a canyon between you.

It’s been five years. Five years since they dropped you as easily as an old habit. Five years since they picked a side that was never yours to begin with.

They were always Toji’s friends first, you knew that, but still—being discarded so effortlessly after your breakup stung in a way you’d never admit out loud.

Megumi notices the shift immediately.

“Mama? What’s wrong?” His voice is quiet, but his brows pinch, his little body instinctively leaning against yours. Then, as if sensing something deeper, he scoots closer, resting his head against your side. His small hand clutches your shirt.

You want to curse the gods for making Megumi such an incredibly perceptive child, but at the same time, you want to thank them for giving you the sweetest boy imaginable.

No, really—you could start crying at the way his tiny fingers grip your shirt, like he already knows you need the comfort more than he does.

You clear your throat, ducking your head as if looking away will make them disappear. “Nothing, honey,” you murmur, smoothing a hand over his hair. “Just thought I recognized someone.”

A white lie. A harmless one. But your pulse won’t settle, and your fingers curl against the tabletop.

Because you don’t just recognize them. You know them.

You remember the unanswered calls, the ignored texts—the way they never once gave you a way to reach Toji when you needed him most. They didn’t know you were pregnant, sure. But even now, after all these years, the resentment bubbles up like something toxic in your chest.

And worst of all? If they see Megumi, they’ll know.

It wouldn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.

The kid is practically a carbon copy of his father—God, if you hadn’t been in the delivery room, you might’ve thought Toji had just spawned him into existence himself.

Your anxiety spikes as your mind races ahead, spiraling through every worst-case scenario.

Those striking emerald eyes you love so much? They’re just a smaller, rounder version of the ones you used to get lost in years ago.

And their smiles—though rare—mirror each other’s perfectly, down to the sharp curve of their lips.Maybe, just maybe, Megumi inherited your nose.

It’s a weak thought, flimsy and desperate. Because deep down, you know that in a few years, as he grows, his resemblance to Toji will only become more undeniable.

You swallow hard and exhale through your nose, forcing yourself to stay calm.

You just have to get through this meal. Get Megumi home. And pray that today isn’t the day the past comes knocking.

⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖

To be continued, after the completion of Blooming Hearts !

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushigro x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #toji zenin #reader insert #toji x self insert #toji fanfic #toji x female reader #toji fluff #fluff #angst #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #hidden baby trope

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olderwomenenthusiast · 3 days ago

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tell me in the morning (spencer reid)

PAIRING: spencer reid & fem reader DESCRIPTION: you make sure spencer tells you his confession when he's sober CAUTION: drunk spencer WORD COUNT: 2.1k AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read, they never are x

Morgan stared at Spencer, who was swaying slightly on the barstool, eyes half-lidded and a slight slur to his words. "Man, you're not usually like this," Morgan said, an amused yet concerned expression on his face. "Rossi, we need to get him out of here."

Rossi just shook his head, eyeing Spencer with a mix of disbelief and sympathy. "He's not usually this bad, but he’s been on a roll tonight. I think we pushed him a bit too far."

Morgan was already reaching for his phone, dialing your number. The sound of it ringing echoed in his ear. "Hey, it's Morgan. We’ve got a problem. Reid’s way too drunk, and I don’t think he can make it home on his own. Can you come pick him up?"

He paused, hearing the concern in your voice. "Yeah, I know, we tried. But you’re his best bet. Please come get him."

He glanced at Spencer, who was now giggling at some joke only he understood, then back at Rossi. "I’ll keep an eye on him, but he’s not going anywhere until you get here."

When you walked in, you saw Spencer’s usual sharpness completely gone, replaced by a goofy grin and a drowsy gaze. He perked up when he saw you, his eyes widening a little. "Hey, hey, it’s you! My favorite person," he slurred, attempting to stand but stumbling into the table beside him.

"Spence," you said softly, moving quickly to steady him, a little worried at how uncharacteristically vulnerable he was. "Let’s get you out of here, okay?"

He nodded, his head falling onto your shoulder as you helped him to his feet. "I’m fine, really," he muttered, but it was clear he wasn’t. He leaned into you more than usual, his weight pressing heavily on your side.

Morgan shot you a quick, apologetic look, and Rossi gave a knowing nod, both stepping back to let you take the lead.

"You’ve got him, right?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah," you replied, though there was no hiding the concern in your voice. "Don’t worry. I’ve got him."

Spencer gave a soft laugh, his arm sliding around your waist as you guided him out of the bar. "You always know how to make me feel better," he murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

You smiled, though it was laced with worry. "Let’s just get you home, Spence."

As you led Spencer out of the bar, his head bobbing slightly as he struggled to stay upright, you could feel the weight of the situation settling in. He was usually so put-together, so controlled—this side of him, so vulnerable and unguarded, was unsettling.

"You really went all in tonight, huh?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light, even as your concern deepened.

Spencer chuckled softly, but there was an odd, almost self-deprecating edge to it. "I just… wanted to forget, you know? For a little while. It’s... hard sometimes."

You stopped, glancing at him. He looked at you, eyes unusually glassy, but there was still that familiar vulnerability in his gaze. "Spence, you don't have to do this alone, you know. We’re here for you."

He leaned against you a little more, letting out a sigh. "I know. It’s just... sometimes it feels like I’m too much, even for you guys. Like I’m a burden." His words were slower now, a quiet honesty slipping out as the alcohol loosened his usual guardedness.

Your heart clenched. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or if Spencer truly felt this way, but you weren’t about to let him believe he was a burden to anyone—especially not to you. "You’re not a burden, Spencer. Never have been. We care about you. I care about you."

His head tilted up, just enough to catch your eyes, and for a moment, the playfulness faded as the weight of his words seemed to sink in. "You do?" he asked softly, almost like a whisper, his voice vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to.

You nodded, your hand gently brushing his cheek. "Of course. You're one of my closest friends, Spence. I’ve always got your back."

Spencer didn’t say anything for a few moments. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable, before a small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Thank you," he whispered, voice full of sincerity.

You smiled back, guiding him toward the car. "Let's just get you home, okay? We'll talk more in the morning."

As you helped Spencer into the car, the ride back was filled with a kind of quiet tension. His hand rested on the seat between you, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach for you, but he never quite did. His usual intelligence and wit seemed clouded, and his mind wandered more than it usually would. Every now and then, he'd mumble something under his breath, something you couldn't quite catch, but it didn’t seem important at the time.

However, as you pulled into the parking spot outside his apartment, he looked over at you with an intensity that was too sharp for the state he was in.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" His voice was softer than usual, almost fragile.

"Of course," you said, keeping the car in park and looking over at him. You noticed how his eyes were fixed on you, a kind of vulnerability in them that you hadn’t seen before.

He shifted, leaning closer, his breath warm on your face. "I’ve been meaning to say this for a long time," he continued, words slow, as if working through something heavy in his mind. "I... I think I’ve always loved you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and the air between you both seemed to hang still for a moment. You blinked, trying to process what he was saying, but Spencer was already moving closer, his hand finding your arm as he leaned in, eyes closing in anticipation of a kiss.

For a brief moment, you froze, feeling a mixture of shock, confusion, and concern. This wasn’t right—not now, not like this.

"Spence," you said, your voice gentle, but firm. You placed your hand on his chest to keep him from leaning in further, your heart pounding in your chest as you made sure he was steady. "I care about you, I do. But this... this isn’t something we should do right now, not when you’re drunk."

He stilled, his face faltering for the briefest of seconds, and when he pulled back, his eyes seemed distant, like he was already retreating into himself. "Oh," he muttered, almost to himself, looking away from you. "Right. I didn’t think... I guess I just thought... you’d feel the same." His voice was tinged with hurt, and that small, vulnerable side of him seemed to sink even further.

You took a deep breath, your hand still gently on his arm, and you spoke softly, careful not to dismiss his feelings. "Spencer," you started again, searching his eyes, making sure he understood. "If you still feel the same way in the morning when you’ve had time to clear your head, then we can talk about it. We can see where things go. But right now, I don’t want you to make any decisions when you’re not yourself."

His expression faltered, but he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Yeah, okay," he muttered, his gaze dropping. "I just... I just thought... never mind."

You could see the pain behind his words, and it made your heart ache. You reached out to gently squeeze his shoulder, giving him a comforting look. "It’s okay, Spence. Just... let’s get you inside and get some rest. We'll talk more tomorrow, alright?"

He didn’t respond at first, but when you helped him out of the car, his steps were slower, as if the weight of his confession and your response had settled on his shoulders. Inside his apartment, you made sure he was settled onto the couch, and though you could see the disappointment and hurt in his eyes, you also knew that this wasn’t the end of whatever was beginning between you two. It was just a pause, a moment where time had to catch up with feelings and circumstances.

"Sleep, Spence," you whispered, tucking a blanket around him. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

He looked up at you one more time, his gaze soft but weary. "Okay," he said quietly, before closing his eyes. "Thanks for... not making this worse."

You watched him drift into a restless sleep, a swirl of emotions in your chest as you settled into the chair beside him. You didn’t know what the morning would bring, but for now, you stayed by his side, knowing that whatever happened, you would work through it together - when he was ready.

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen as you busied yourself with the morning routine, the soft clink of mugs and the steady drip of the coffee maker offering a comforting normalcy after last night’s emotional rollercoaster. You were trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept wandering back to Spencer, and the confession he had drunkenly blurted out in the car. You hoped that, with time, things would settle; though the quiet anticipation in your chest told you otherwise.

Then, you heard the familiar soft padding of footsteps behind you. You turned to find Spencer standing in the doorway, looking a little disheveled, his hair sticking out in every direction, but there was a slight glint in his eyes that made him look almost endearing in his disoriented state.

"Good morning," you said, offering him a soft smile as you poured the coffee. "You need pain meds? A glass of water?"

He shook his head, blinking as he seemed to gather himself. "No, surprisingly, no headache. Just... a little embarrassed." He scratched the back of his neck, his nervousness clear in the way he avoided your gaze. "I can’t believe I said that last night."

You raised an eyebrow, turning to face him more fully, leaning against the counter. "What exactly did you say last night, Spence? You’ll have to remind me." You couldn’t help but tease him lightly, letting the playful tone soften the tension that still hung in the air.

Spencer flushed, taking a few slow steps closer to you, his eyes never quite meeting yours, though you could see the vulnerability behind them. "I told you I loved you. And I meant it," he murmured, his voice quieter now, more serious than it had been before. "I just... I needed to tell you. I was too scared before."

Before you could stop yourself, your heart softened. You didn’t need time to think about it; you knew exactly how you felt. You stepped closer to him, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you too, Spencer." Your eyes met his, and the depth of your words seemed to linger between you both.

He seemed to freeze, a surprised little breath escaping him as he finally allowed himself to look at you, his gaze searching your face for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he took one more step toward you, his hand reaching out to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek softly, almost as if he were still trying to convince himself this wasn’t just a dream.

"I’m serious," he said, his voice almost pleading now, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw. "I meant it. I love you."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at the honesty in his words, but couldn't resist the urge to tease him just a little. "I know you meant it, Spence." You let your fingers brush over his hand where it cupped your face. "But it takes a genius like you to get drunk just to finally tell me."

Spencer’s face flushed deeper, and you could see the little smirk that tugged at his lips, despite the embarrassment. "I guess... I guess I needed a little push."

"You definitely did," you teased, leaning forward just slightly, enough that your lips brushed the edge of his cheek. "But I’m glad you got there."

Spencer chuckled softly, a genuine warmth behind the sound. "I promise next time, no alcohol. I’ll be a little more... coherent when I tell you."

You smiled, your hands gently resting on his chest as you looked up at him, heart full of warmth. "I think I’d like that."

He leaned in just a bit closer, his forehead resting against yours for a moment, his breath warm against your skin. "Good, because I plan on telling you a lot more often."

The air between you seemed to settle, a quiet understanding filling the space. Spencer’s nervousness melted away, and in its place was something stronger, something real. You didn’t know what the future held, but as you stood there with him, the weight of last night’s confession didn’t feel so heavy anymore. It felt right.

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #tv series #shows #spencer reid #reid #mgg #spencer reid fluff #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you

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snowysosturn · 1 day ago

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Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 13

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension

The morning sun spilled through the sheer curtains, my head was still heavy from last night, and my body feeling sheer exhaustion of what had happened. I had barely slept, replaying the scene at the restaurant over and over in my mind. The embarrassment, the sting of Matt’s words, the way I had to walk away while holding back tears.

A soft knock at my door made me wake that bit more. "Hey, you awake?" I hear Nick’s voice from through the door.

I remembered I locked it once Matt left last night so I pulled myself from my bed and unlocked the door letting Nick to come in. I turned and walked back to my bed, sitting up against the headboard, pulling the covers around me. Nick closed the door behind him before standing at the end of the bed. "Alright, spill. What the hell happened last night? You left, and then Matt stormed in looking like he just saw a ghost."

I exhaled, rubbing my temples before looking at him. "Your mom asked Nate if he was seeing anyone, and he said no, which was fine, right? But Matt decided to make it seem like that was some kind of rejection for me, like I was meant to be upset about it. Then, out of nowhere, he brings up to your mom and dad that Nate and I went on a ‘date’, which you know yourself wasn’t even a date, so then Nate tried to clarify that we were just friends, but Matt just kept pushing it. Then he said that I was a quick fuck and then friend zoned. Right in front of your parents." I swallowed, feeling the embarrassment all over again.

Nick’s eyes widened slightly, but his expression darkened. "What the fuck?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Yeah and I’m so embarrassed if your parents heard that last part because first of all, I had just met them, and second of all, it’s just not even true. It made me look bad, it made Nate uncomfortable, and Matt acted like he had some right to embarrass me like that."

Nick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No I get why you’re upset like he was way out of line. But listen, when Chris and I came back in, our parents said you were lovely and that they hoped you felt better soon. I’m telling you they didn’t hear that part."

I let out a slow breath of relief. "Really?"

"Really" Nick nodded. "They just thought you weren’t feeling well and needed to leave early."

I sank back into my pillows, finally feeling like I could breathe a little easier. "Good. Because I swear, I was ready to dig a hole and disappear forever."

Nick laughed. "Nah, no disappearing allowed. But are you gonna talk to Matt about it?"

I frowned, staring at the ceiling for a moment. "We did last night kinda, but I’m still so angry. And the worst part is, I don’t even know why he acted like that. It was like he wanted to embarrass me."

Nick shrugged. "Matt’s an idiot. He says dumb shit, but he also knows when he’s messed up. I guarantee you, he feels like shit about it right now."

"Good" I muttered, still unwilling to entertain the idea of forgiving him just yet.

Nick sighed again but didn’t push it further. "Alright, well, the four of us are going out with my parents for the day. You coming?"

I shook my head. "I think I’m just gonna stay back here today, I just want things to die down."

"Thats cool." He stood up, stretching. "Try not to overthink it too much, alright?"

I gave a half smile. "Easier said than done."

As Nick left the room, I rolled onto my side, staring out the window at the pool below. I knew I wouldn’t be able to just brush this off, but at least, for now, I could breathe a little easier knowing that Nick’s parents didn’t hear Matt’s words. Still, the anger remained, simmering just beneath the surface. Eventually, I decided I needed some air, some sun, some quiet, and a break from all the tension.

I slipped out of bed and grabbed my swimsuit, opting for a tiny bikini that I knew would be perfect for lounging by the pool. The straps sat snug against my skin, the warm morning air already filtering through the open balcony doors as I pulled my hair up out of my face. After tossing on a loose cover up, I slid into my sliders and grabbed a towel before heading downstairs.

As I reached the foyer, the others were gathered, chatting and getting ready to head out for the day. The energy in the room was light, filled with laughter and the occasional clatter of sunglasses being thrown into bags. As soon as they spotted me, they greeted me, well everyone except Matt, who didn’t even glance in my direction.

Chris was the first to speak. “You coming with us?” His tone was casual, but his eyes scanned my face like he was checking in.

I shook my head, adjusting my towel over my arm. “Nah, I think I’m going to take it easy today. Just chill by the pool and relax.”

Nate nodded approvingly. “Honestly? Probably the smarter move.”

Chris shot me a small smile. “Enjoy the sun. We’ll be back later.”

I returned the smile, forcing the tension from last night out of my mind. “You guys have fun.”

With that, they all filed out the front door, their voices fading as they disappeared down the steps. The villa was suddenly silent, the only sound being the faint rustling of palm trees outside.

I exhaled slowly before grabbing an ice tea from the fridge and making my way out to the pool, letting the warm sun wrap around me as I laid my towel down on one of the lounge chairs. Finally, peace and quiet.

I stretched out on the lounge chair, letting the sun soak into my skin as I sipped on the cold drink. I had left the villa door open, wanting to hear when everyone got back, but after a while, another sound caught my attention.

A knock.

Frowning, I sat up, adjusting my bikini top before grabbing my cover up and slipping it over my hips. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and the guys wouldn’t have knocked, they had keys.

As I rushed barefoot across the cold tile floor, I hesitated for a second before pulling the door open.

A mailman stood there, holding a large box. He barely glanced up before handing it over. “Delivery for Fresh Love.”

I furrowed my brows but took the package, feeling the weight of it in my arms. “Oh, thanks.”

With a nod, he turned and walked back down the driveway. I shut the door with my foot and carried the box to the kitchen counter, setting it down with a small thud. I smirked, realizing this must be the personalized samples Chris had mentioned, the ones he ordered for all of us. I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick picture of the box before opening up my messages with Chris.

Me: Personalised samples just got delivered.

A few seconds later, the typing bubbles appeared.

Chris: Sick! You check ‘em out yet?

I glanced at the box, debating if I should wait for him or just open it now.

Me: Not yet. Was gonna let you do the honours.

Chris: Okay cool. We can do a shoot with them at sunset later.

I bring the box up to Chris’ room and set it on the bed so he can see everything when we get back in. If we’re doing a shoot I want to look extra radiant and glowy, and that won’t happen from standing inside the villa. I grabbed one of the body oils in my room before making my way back out to the pool. I poured a little into my palm, rubbing it over my legs as I stretched back out on the lounge chair.

Matt’s POV

We were halfway through the guided tour when Chris suddenly checked his phone and said, “Oh, the personalized samples came in. Y/n just texted me.”

Hearing her name wasn’t helpful. Not when I hadn’t been able to get her off my mind since last night, and god how she looked in that bikini earlier didn't help. I kept my eyes straight ahead, pretending I didn’t care, but my mom didn’t let it slide. “Oh, Y/n is such a lovely girl” she said with a warm smile, then turned to me. “Is she feeling better now, sweetheart?”

Before I could even begin to answer, Nick cut in smoothly. “Yeah, she’s fine. Just needed a bit of sleep.” His tone was light, brushing off the question like it wasn’t worth pressing. He knew me well enough to know that I didn’t want to talk about it, especially not here, not in front of everyone.

I kept my mouth shut and just nodded in agreement, though the truth was, I felt far from fine. Guilt sat heavy in my chest, chipping away at me. Last night, I had let my emotions get the best of me. I let jealousy, because let’s be honest, that’s exactly what it was, take control, and I lashed out in the worst way possible. I had said something cruel, something I couldn’t take back. And knowing Y/n, she wasn’t the type to just let it roll off her shoulders. She put up walls, and I had given her every reason to keep me on the other side of them.

The more I thought about it, the worse it got. I had no right to be mad at her, no right to act like what she did or didn’t do with Nate, or anyone else for that matter, was any of my business. But that hadn’t stopped me from taking a low blow, from making her feel small in front of people who barely even knew her. If she had done that to me, I’d be furious. So what did that say about me?

I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair as I barely registered the tour guide’s voice. My mind was somewhere else entirely.

I had to make this right.

I knew I had a way to make it up to her, it was something I should've done ages ago. And now, I could only hope it wasn’t too late for her to forgive me.

Y/n’s POV

I was sitting outside on the patio, a plate of food in my lap as I watched the sun dip below the horizon. The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange, the kind of sunset that made everything feel a little quieter, a little more peaceful. It was one of those moments I wished I could freeze in time, just me, the sunset, and the distant sound of waves hitting onto the shore.

But then, the front door swung open, breaking the stillness.

The familiar sounds of shuffling feet and tired voices filled the villa as the guys returned. I set my plate aside and stood up, making my way inside to greet them.

“Hey” I said, leaning against the kitchen counter as they walked in.

They all looked exhausted, Chris, Nate, Matt, and Nick, their faces slightly sunburnt, their hair tousled from the slight breeze and even though they didn’t say much at first, their body language said it all.

Chris let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair as he took his cap off. “Long day,” he muttered. “We were out in the sun for way too long, and I think it’s catching up to everyone.”

Nate groaned in agreement, tossing his sunglasses onto the counter. “I need, like, ten hours of sleep.”

Matt didn’t say much, just nodded, his jaw tight. He looked at me for half a second before glancing away, like he was trying to avoid something, most likely me. I ignored the sting in my chest and forced a small smile.

“Yeah, we’re all wiped” Nick added, stretching his arms above his head. “Think we’ll just stay in tonight, order some takeout, crash early.”

“That’s fine with me” I said, realizing I was more drained than I thought. Between being in the sun all day and everything that happened last night, I could use a quiet night too. “I left that box in your room” I say turning to Chris.

“Cool I’ll have a look now, we can take pictures tomorrow evening instead, when everyones a bit more awake”

And with that, Chris, Nate, and Matt didn’t waste any time disappearing into their rooms, clearly eager to knock out for a bit.

Nick lingered behind, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m gonna shower first, but after that, I’ll come to your room? We can just chill for a bit, a movie maybe?.”

I nodded. “Sounds good.”

I walk up to my room, kicking the door shut behind me as I switch on the TV. The smart TV mounted on the wall was a lifesaver, especially on nights like this when there wasn’t much going on. I sink onto the bed, remote in hand, sifting through Netflix, too see if theres anything both Nick and I would like. The knock on the door wasn’t enough to pull my attention from the screen since I assume it’s Nick, I don’t even think twice before calling out, “Come in.”

But it’s not Nick.

It’s Matt.

He stands there in the doorway, looking uncertain, a silver metallic gift bag dangling from his fingers. Looking like the same one I spotted in his room next to my ‘Thank You’ card. For a moment, neither of us speak. We just stare at each other, the weight of unspoken words thick in the space between us.

My tone is blunt when I finally ask, “Are you alright?”

Matt doesn’t answer. Instead, he lifts the bag slightly, as if offering it to me. His expression is unreadable, something between nervousness and determination.

“What is it?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Just look in it” he says quietly.

I hesitate for a second before reaching out, taking the metallic bag from his grasp. Peeling back the layers of tissue paper inside, my breath catches in my throat.

It’s my locket.

The delicate chain pools in my palm, the pendant glinting from the sunset shining in my balcony window. My fingers tighten around it as I snap my gaze back up to Matt, my heart pounding.

“Where did you get this?” I demand, my voice barely above a whisper.

a/n : most of this is a bit of a filler soz

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