#but at least we have each other to lean on

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Unwanted Wingman | LN4

⋆☃︎⛸️✧˖°❅🕯️༘⋆𐙚 summary ━━━━━━━ At a Christmas party, Y/N is encouraged to confess her feelings to Ed, but Lando interrupts, admitting that he likes her.

⋆☃︎⛸️✧˖°❅🕯️༘⋆𐙚 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆☃︎⛸️✧˖°❅🕯️༘⋆𐙚 word count ━━━━━━━ 2.1k

London’s winter air carried the crisp chill of December, painting the streets with a blend of frosty mist and holiday cheer. Fairy lights twinkled from shop windows. Inside a warm and festively decorated flat in South Kensington, Y/N found herself amid the buzz of a Christmas party that swayed between cozy and chaotic. She had agreed to come last minute, swayed by the promise of mulled wine and a chance to see old friends.

The host, Max Fewtrell, had outdone himself. The room was decked out with garlands, a towering Christmas tree glittering with baubles, and enough food and drinks to cater a small army. It was packed with familiar faces, some she hadn't seen in years, and others who still graced her day-to-day life.

One of those faces was Lando Norris.

Lando, the golden boy of Formula 1, had a charisma that was impossible to ignore. He was dressed casually yet effortlessly stylish, his laughter echoing through the room as he animatedly told a story to a group of friends. Though he lived in Monaco now, his visits to the UK were frequent, as his close-knit circle and family remained rooted here.

Y/N and Lando weren’t strangers. In fact, they’d been part of the same extended friend group for years. He was the type to make everyone feel at ease, his boyish charm and wit drawing people to him like moths to a flame. They were friendly, but not close—at least, not in the way where they’d share secrets or seek each other out in a crowded room. Still, there was an undeniable comfort in his presence, like he was a part of the furniture in the tapestry of her life.

At that moment, though, Y/N wasn’t thinking about Lando. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of mulled wine in hand, talking to her best friend, Pietra.

“Okay, you have to tell him tonight,” Pietra whispered, her tone conspiratorial.

“Tell who what?” Y/N asked, feigning innocence but failing miserably.

Pietra rolled her eyes. “You know who. Ed. You’ve been crushing on him for months. You can’t keep staring at him from across the room like a lovesick teenager.”

Y/N groaned, her eyes darting to where Jamie stood near the Christmas tree, laughing at something another friend said. He looked annoyingly good in his navy jumper, the kind of effortlessly handsome that made her palms sweat.

“I can’t just tell him,” Y/N protested. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if he does, and then it gets weird?”

Pietra gave her a pointed look. “You’re overthinking it. Just talk to him. You’re both adults. It’s not that deep.”

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Lando had walked into the kitchen just in time to catch the tail end of their conversation. He wasn’t eavesdropping—at least, not intentionally—but the mention of Ed’s name caught his attention.

Ed? Y/N liked Ed?

Lando frowned, a pang of annoyance flashing through him. It wasn’t like he had a reason to feel that way. He and Y/N weren’t a thing. They weren’t even close friends. But the thought of her liking someone else, someone as boringly predictable as Ed, didn’t sit well with him.

Without thinking, Lando decided to intervene.

He sauntered up to the counter, his smile wide and mischievous. “What are we gossiping about, ladies?”

Y/N jumped slightly, her cheeks flushing. “Nothing. Just... stuff.”

“Stuff?” Lando teased, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously vague.”

Pietra smirked, catching on to Lando’s nosiness. “Y/N was just saying she has a crush on someone at the party.”

“Pietra!” Y/N hissed, her face heating up.

Lando’s smile faltered for a split second before he quickly recovered. “A crush, huh? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’m an expert in these matters.”

“An expert in what? Meddling?” Y/N shot back, trying to deflect.

“Helping,” Lando corrected, his grin returning. “And lucky for you, I happen to be an excellent wingman.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, skeptical. “I don’t need a wingman.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Lando said smoothly. “But imagine how much faster things could move along with my help.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Lando had already decided he was going to wingman her—whether she wanted him to or not.

Lando’s first attempt at “helping” came not long after. Ed had moved to the makeshift bar in the corner of the living room, and Y/N had finally gathered enough courage to approach him. She was halfway across the room when Lando intercepted her path.

“Hey, Y/N!” he said, stepping directly in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to sidestep him.

“Just checking in,” he said innocently. “You looked like you were on a mission.”

“I was,” she replied, trying not to sound annoyed. “I was going to talk to Ed.”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with mock concern. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, he’s... well, he’s kind of boring, isn’t he?”

Y/N blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about? Ed’s not boring.”

“I don’t know,” Lando said, shrugging. “He just doesn’t seem like your type.”

“And what exactly is my type?” she challenged, crossing her arms.

Lando opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, seemingly at a loss. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “But it’s definitely not him.”

Y/N sighed, brushing past him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Lando’s next attempt was less direct but no less effective. Y/N had finally managed to corner Ed near the dessert table, and they were chatting amiably about holiday plans when Lando swooped in.

“Ed!” Lando exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “How’s it going, mate?”

Ed smiled, though he looked slightly confused by Lando’s sudden enthusiasm. “Good, thanks. You?”

“Oh, you know, living the dream,” Lando said breezily. “Hey, did you know Y/N here is absolutely terrified of eggnog? Like, she won’t even go near it.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s not—”

“Is that true?” Jamie asked, amused.

“No!” Y/N said firmly, shooting Lando a glare. “He’s making that up.”

“Am I?” Lando said, feigning innocence. “Remember that time at Pietra’s party last year? You practically bolted when someone brought out a pitcher of eggnog.”

“That didn’t happen!” Y/N snapped, her cheeks burning.

Ed chuckled, clearly entertained by the exchange. “Well, I’ll make sure to keep any eggnog far away from you, just in case.''

Y/N groaned inwardly as Lando grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

By the end of the night, Y/N was frustrated beyond belief. Every time she’d tried to make progress with Ed, Lando had been there, either distracting her or derailing the conversation. It wasn’t until she caught him smirking after yet another failed attempt that it clicked.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she said, cornering him in the hallway.

Lando looked at her, feigning confusion. “Doing what?”

“Sabotaging me,” she accused. “Every time I try to talk to Ed, you show up and ruin it.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his playful demeanor fading slightly. “Maybe I am,” he admitted finally.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you with him,” Lando said simply.

The admission hung in the air between them, heavy and unexpected.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, her voice quieter now.

Lando hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Because I don’t think he deserves you,” he said finally. “And maybe because I don’t want you with anyone else.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing she’d expected.

“That’s completely unfair,” she said softly, though her tone lacked conviction.

“Maybe,” Lando said, stepping closer. “But I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the noise of the party fading into the background. Then, before she could overthink it, Y/N closed the distance between them, her lips brushing against his.

Lando froze, then quickly recovered, kissing her back with a mixture of surprise and relief.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N looked up at him, her cheeks flushed. “You’re still the worst wingman ever.”

Lando grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Maybe, but I’m the best at this.”

And for once, Y/N couldn’t argue with him.

The hallway suddenly felt quieter than it should have, given the lively party still going on in the next room. Lando leaned against the wall, his grin softening into something more thoughtful as he looked at Y/N. She crossed her arms, both as a way to steady herself and to process what had just happened.

“So, what happens now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tilted his head, his expression turning serious. “That depends. Are you going to keep pretending you like Ed, or are we going to talk about what’s actually going on here?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks still warm. “First of all, I wasn’t pretending to like Ed. He’s genuinely nice, and—”

“And completely not your type,” Lando interrupted, his smirk returning.

“Oh, so you’re the expert on my type now?” she shot back.

“Obviously,” he said, leaning a little closer. “Your type is witty, charming, and—oh—probably a racing driver who lives in Monaco.”

She scoffed, though she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist, apparently,” he quipped, gesturing between them.

“Lando...” Her tone shifted, her expression sobering. “Are you serious about what you said earlier? About not wanting me with anyone else?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if considering how much of himself he was willing to put out there. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. “Yeah, I am. I didn’t realize it until tonight, but the thought of you with someone else—it just... didn’t feel right.”

Her heart skipped a beat, his honesty catching her off guard. “You’re not just saying that because of some weird possessive thing, are you? Because I’m not interested in being anyone’s... I don’t know, territory or whatever.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. I just... I’ve liked you for a while, I think. I didn’t realize it until I thought I might lose my chance.”

Y/N studied him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. She found none. Instead, she saw the same boyish charm she’d always known, but now layered with a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before.

“And what exactly are you proposing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m proposing,” he said, stepping closer, “that you give me a chance to prove I’m worth more than just being the worst wingman ever.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his earnestness, her heart softening despite her best efforts to remain skeptical. “You know, for someone who lives in Monaco, you’re making this pretty inconvenient for me.”

“Good thing I’m in the UK a lot, then,” he replied smoothly.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “That’s just typical of you,” she said with a playful eye roll.

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, his voice low.

“Debatable,” she countered, though the smile on her face gave her away.

“So, is that a yes?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

She pretended to think about it, drawing out the silence just long enough to make him sweat. Finally, she nodded. “It’s a yes. But if you sabotage me like that again, I’m out.”

Lando grinned, looking like he’d just won pole position. “Deal. No more sabotaging. Unless it’s for a really good reason.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but let him pull her into another kiss, the noise of the party melting away once more.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to a flurry of texts from Pietra.

Pietra: “OMG, what happened with Ed?? Did you tell him?!”

Pietra: “Wait, I saw you talking to Lando later. What was that about?”

Pietra: “Y/N, ANSWER ME. I NEED DETAILS.”

Y/N groaned, pulling the duvet over her head. The events of the previous night came rushing back, and she felt equal parts exhilarated and nervous.

Before she could respond to Pietra, her phone buzzed with another notification. This time, it was from Lando.

Lando: “Morning :) Just checking if you’re still cool with me being the worst wingman ever. Also, breakfast? My treat.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she typed back a quick reply.

Y/N: “You’re still the worst, but fine. Breakfast sounds good.”

Moments later, another message popped up.

Lando: “Great. Pick you up in an hour. Wear something warm. And no eggnog jokes, I promise.”

Shaking her head, Y/N climbed out of bed, a small smile playing on her lips. As much as she hadn’t seen it coming, there was something about Lando—something about them—that just felt... right.

For the first time in a long while, she felt excited about what might come next. And maybe, just maybe, being wing manned by the worst wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[aventurineswife]

Following up from the post when the characters were sick, what if the reader got sick as well and now they're both sick?

When Weakness Brings Us Closer

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Sick Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Caring for Each Other, Mutual Vulnerability, Slight Whump, Domestic Moments.

Warnings: Depictions of Illness, Mentions of Overworking or Stress as a Trigger for Illness, Emotional Vulnerability, Possible Light Angst (emotional moments, feelings of guilt, or unspoken tension).

The opulent room, filled with Aventurine’s usual flair for the dramatic—velvet curtains, golden ornaments, and dimmed lights—felt oddly claustrophobic. Both of you were confined to the lavish couch, a pile of tissues growing steadily on the ornate coffee table.

“You’re an amateur at this, you know,” Aventurine teased, his voice hoarse but laced with his usual wit. Despite his own flushed cheeks and drooping posture, he gestured grandly, a half-empty cup of tea in one hand. “This is why I warned you about staying too close to me when I was under the weather.”

“You were the one who wouldn’t stop bragging about your ‘impenetrable immunity,’” you shot back, sniffling.

He laughed, though it turned into a hacking cough. Aventurine’s usual flamboyance was muted by the cold, but his sharp eyes still held a spark of mischief.

“Well,” he rasped, leaning back dramatically, “if we’re both doomed to misery, we may as well make the most of it. Cards, perhaps? Or do you prefer a rousing debate about my unparalleled brilliance?”

You rolled your eyes but found yourself smiling despite your exhaustion. In this vulnerable moment, Aventurine’s charm wasn’t just an act—it was his way of making you forget the heaviness of your shared misery.

The room was unnaturally quiet, save for the occasional sound of Sunday stirring a cup of herbal tea. Both of you sat in the dimly lit chamber, his halo casting a soft glow.

“Rest,” Sunday murmured, his voice gentle but insistent as he handed you the tea. His usually immaculate appearance was slightly disheveled—his scarf hung loose, and his golden eyes seemed dimmer. Yet, even in sickness, he radiated calm.

You sipped the tea, grateful for its warmth, though your own fever made it hard to feel much else. “You’re one to talk,” you replied weakly, gesturing at his pale complexion. “You should be resting too.”

“I will,” he assured, though his actions betrayed him as he began fluffing your pillows. “Your health is more important.”

The care in his actions made your heart ache in a way no illness could. Despite his own state, Sunday couldn’t seem to stop prioritizing you.

“You’re stubborn,” you said, lying back against the pillows with a small smile.

“And you’re in no position to argue,” he countered, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles before he settled into the chair beside you. “Let’s both rest now.”

The room was a mess—half-empty cups, discarded tissues, and an overturned bottle of cough syrup bore witness to Sampo’s less-than-stellar sickbed manner.

“See? Told you we’d be in this together,” Sampo said with a grin, his voice raspy but still filled with his signature charm. He leaned against the headboard of the bed you now shared, a blanket draped haphazardly over his lap.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” you muttered, glaring at him from your cocoon of blankets.

“Oh, come on,” he said, reaching over to nudge you lightly. “It’s not so bad. At least now you have me to keep you entertained.”

“Entertained? You’ve done nothing but complain about the soup I made!”

He chuckled, though it quickly turned into a coughing fit. “Hey, I’m just saying, next time we’re sick, I’ll make the soup. I’ve got this great recipe—secret family tradition, you know.”

You groaned, but a reluctant smile tugged at your lips. Sampo, even at his most annoying, had a way of making the worst situations bearable.

The Astral Express was unusually still, the usual hum of activity replaced by the sound of sneezes and groans. Dan Heng sat cross-legged on the floor beside the bed, his spear leaning against the wall for easy access even in his weakened state.

“You should be lying down,” you said, your voice scratchy as you shifted under the covers.

Dan Heng shook his head, his quiet determination as unyielding as ever. “You need the bed more than I do,” he replied, though his pale complexion and tired eyes betrayed his stubbornness.

“Dan Heng,” you said softly, “you’re not going to be much help to anyone if you don’t rest.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours. With a reluctant sigh, he leaned back against the wall, finally allowing himself a moment of reprieve.

“I just don’t like being… useless,” he admitted quietly, his stoicism cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of vulnerability.

“You’re not useless,” you assured him, reaching out to brush his hand lightly. “You’re here. That’s enough.”

Dan Heng’s lips curved into a faint smile, and for the first time since the sickness had struck, the weight between you both felt a little lighter.

[mywhisperingwords]

never will be | fred g. weasley

summary: if one more person called fred your boyfriend, you were going to hex them—and then probably yourself for wishing it were true word count: 5.8k masterlist

“Seriously, though,” Angelina said, leaning against the Gryffindor common room sofa with a sly grin, “when are you two finally going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Fred asked, looking up from the deck of Exploding Snap cards he was shuffling.

“That you’re dating,” George chimed in from across the room, tossing a chocolate frog wrapper into the fire.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “For the hundredth time, we’re not dating.”

“Not yet, at least,” Angelina muttered, smirking at you.

Fred laughed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Don’t listen to them. They’re just bored and trying to start drama.”

George snorted. “Says the bloke who can’t go two hours without dragging her off to help with one of his pranks.”

“That’s because she’s got steady hands,” Fred argued, flashing you a grin that made your stomach flip. “Best partner-in-crime I could ask for.”

“Mm-hmm,” George said, exchanging a knowing look with Angelina.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but forced a casual laugh. “Exactly. Partners-in-crime. Nothing more.”

Fred’s grin widened, oblivious to the way your voice faltered on the last words.

Later that evening, as you sat in your usual spot in the common room, Fred plopped down beside you, his long legs stretching out in front of him.

George and Angelina had finally left you alone, their laughter about your so-called “relationship” fading into the background.

Fred tossed a bright green bean into the air, catching it in his mouth. “Honestly, they’re relentless. Next thing you know, they’ll be planning our wedding.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, definitely. George would insist on fireworks during the vows.”

“And Angelina would probably hex the cake to explode in my face,” Fred added, grinning.

“Not that you wouldn’t deserve it,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Fred gasped dramatically. “Me? Deserve it? Please, I’d be the perfect groom. You, on the other hand…”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

Fred smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You’d probably spend the entire ceremony arguing with me about the flowers or the seating arrangements.”

“Only because you’d insist on something ridiculous, like having a Quidditch match instead of a reception,” you shot back, laughing.

“See? Proves my point,” Fred said, throwing another bean into his mouth.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. The conversation was silly, but it sent a pang through your chest all the same. For a moment, you wondered—what if it weren’t so ridiculous? What if you weren’t just friends?

“Guess it’s a good thing we’d never actually be a couple,” you said lightly, testing the waters.

Fred snorted, not catching the slight hesitation in your voice. “You’ve got that right. Can you imagine? We’d probably kill each other within a week.”

Your smile faltered for a split second, but you quickly recovered, laughing along with him. “True. It would be a disaster.”

“An entertaining one, though,” Fred added, grinning at you.

You laughed again, but the ache in your chest lingered as his words played over in your mind. A disaster.

Fred, oblivious, tossed the box of beans onto the table and stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, who needs all that relationship nonsense? We’re better off just being us.”

“Right,” you said softly, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. “Just us.”

But as you watched Fred lean back, his expression carefree and content, you made a silent decision.

It was time to stop hoping for something that would never happen. It was time to move on.

A couple days later, Fred dropped into the seat next to you in the common room, his typical big grin directed at you. “Fancy sneaking out to the kitchens? I was thinking a snack, but maybe we could even go for a full-course meal if the house-elves are feeling generous.”

You didn’t look up from your book, keeping your voice steady. “Can’t. I’ve got plans tonight.”

Fred tilted his head, frowning. “Plans? With who?”

“Just plans,” you said vaguely, flipping a page.

Fred narrowed his eyes, studying you for a moment, but you didn’t elaborate. Eventually, he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Your loss. More food for me.”

You hummed noncommittally, keeping your gaze fixed on the words in front of you.

Later that evening, Fred was sprawled on the sofa near the fire, George and Lee arguing over a card game beside him. Angelina sauntered in, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.

“Oi, Ang,” Fred called, waving her over. “What’s she up to tonight?”

Angelina raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who. She said she had plans.”

Angelina hesitated for half a second before smirking. “She’s got a date.”

Fred blinked, the words not registering immediately. “A date?”

“Yeah,” Angelina said, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “With that bloke from Ravenclaw—what’s his name? Aaron? Aiden?”

“Andrew,” George supplied helpfully, grinning.

“Right. Andrew,” Angelina said, crossing her arms. “Apparently, he’s been asking her out for ages, and she finally said yes.”

Fred frowned, a strange tightness forming in his chest. “Huh.”

George glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Fred?”

“No,” Fred said quickly, shaking his head. “Why would there be?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, who raised an amused eyebrow. But neither of them said anything, much to Fred’s relief.

Meanwhile you were trying your best to focus on Andrew as he told you about his latest Quidditch practice. He was charming, handsome, and undeniably kind. Exactly the type of person you should be going out with.

But as much as you tried to stay engaged, your mind kept wandering. His laugh wasn’t quite as infectious. His jokes weren’t quite as sharp. And when he leaned in slightly to brush his hand against yours, your chest didn’t flutter the way you wanted it to.

You forced a smile, reminding yourself why you were here. Andrew had always been good to you, and after Fred’s clear rejection, it was time to stop holding onto something that wasn’t going to happen.

“Are you alright?” Andrew asked, his voice soft as he studied your face.

“Yes,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter. “Sorry, just a bit distracted. It’s been a long week.”

Andrew smiled, his eyes warm. “I get it. I’m glad you said yes, though. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

You felt a pang of guilt but managed another smile. “Me too.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Andrew deserved a chance, and you were determined to give it to him.

Still, as the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but wonder what Fred was doing. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thought that you wished he were sitting across from you instead.

You had done your best to steer clear of Fred over the past few days. You weren’t sure why, if someone dared to ask. Maybe you wanted to avoid telling him about your date or maybe talking to Fred would force you to acknowledge that moving on was harder than you thought.

It wasn’t easy, avoiding Fred, considering he had a knack for showing up everywhere you didn’t want him to be.

And, naturally, today was no exception.

“Oi!” Fred’s voice rang out from behind you as you made your way down the hallway after class. “Wait up!”

You considered pretending not to hear him, but the sound of his footsteps catching up told you there was no escaping this time.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside you. His usual grin was in place, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. Been avoiding me or something?”

You gave a half-hearted laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just… busy.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Busy with what? Or should I say who?”

Your stomach twisted at the question, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Angelina mentioned you went on a date,” Fred said, his tone light and teasing, though his eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “Figured you’d be too busy swooning over this Andrew bloke to hang out with your real friends.”

You rolled your eyes, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. “It was just a date, Fred. No swooning involved.”

Fred tilted his head, studying you. “Come on. Spill. What’s he like? Is he as funny as me? Doubt it.”

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you searched his face for any hint of jealousy, any sign that this conversation bothered him. But Fred’s grin was firmly in place, his tone casual and carefree.

“He’s nice,” you said finally, keeping your voice even. “Really nice.”

Fred’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments before returning. “Nice, huh? That’s a glowing review.”

You shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. “What else do you want me to say?”

“I dunno,” Fred said, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe that he’s secretly boring or has terrible taste in music. Something I can mock him for.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, but it quickly faded as the tension in your chest tightened.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Well, if he’s so bloody great, maybe we should invite him to hang out with us sometime.”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. “Are you serious?”

Fred shrugged, his grin turning lopsided. “Why not? He could use a proper Weasley test. See if he can keep up.”

You shook your head, muttering under your breath. “You’re impossible.”

Fred watched you closely, his grin slipping just enough to reveal the confusion beneath it. He didn’t know why the thought of you with Andrew left a sour taste in his mouth, but he was determined to ignore it.

Maybe it was just because he didn’t know the guy. Or because he didn’t want to lose his favorite partner-in-crime to some bloke from Ravenclaw. That had to be it.

Definitely not because he cared more than he should.

&

The common room buzzed with its usual post-dinner chaos. Fred was in his element, loudly challenging George to an Exploding Snap rematch after a questionable loss earlier, when you walked in with Andrew.

Fred’s laughter faltered for half a second, but he quickly covered it up with a grin. “Well, well, look who decided to join us. Ravenclaw royalty.”

“Hi, Fred,” you said, your voice neutral but carrying an edge of warning.

Andrew smiled politely, clearly unfazed. “Hey. I thought I’d take you up on your offer to hang out.”

“Brave of you,” Fred quipped, gesturing to the chaos around him. “We’re not exactly Ravenclaw standards of refined.”

Andrew chuckled. “I can handle it.”

George appeared beside Fred, grinning broadly. “Andrew, right? You’re the Quidditch guy. Chaser, yeah?”

“That’s me,” Andrew said, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Always nice to have another flyer in the group,” George said, clapping him on the back. “Ignore Fred if he gets too annoying.”

“Oi!” Fred protested, but George was already leading Andrew to the sofa, chatting about brooms and game strategies.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Play nice,” you muttered as you passed Fred, taking a seat near Angelina and Lee.

Fred watched as Andrew settled into the group, answering questions and laughing at everyone’s jokes with ease. His jaw tightened when Angelina leaned over to whisper, “He’s charming, isn’t he?”

“Sure,” Fred said, his voice flat.

An hour later, everyone seemed to be getting along swimmingly—except Fred.

He wasn’t outright rude to Andrew, but his usual teasing had a sharper edge tonight. Every time Andrew spoke, Fred had a quick quip or an exaggerated eye roll.

When Andrew mentioned his house winning the latest match, Fred chimed in with, “Ravenclaw’s strategy, isn’t it? Win the game, lose the fun.”

George elbowed Fred, but Andrew only laughed. “We take Quidditch seriously. Some of us, at least.”

Fred grinned tightly. “Right. Because fun has no place in sports.”

“Okay,” you interjected, cutting through the growing tension. “Who wants snacks? I’ll get some from the kitchens.”

“I’ll help,” Andrew offered, standing up.

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Fred before nodding. “Sure. Let’s go.”

After you and Andrew left the common room, Fred slumped back into his chair, muttering something under his breath.

“What’s your problem?” George asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Problem? I don’t have a problem,” Fred said quickly.

“Sure you don’t,” Angelina said, smirking as she leaned against the armrest. “You’re only acting like a jealous git.”

Fred scoffed. “Jealous? Please. I just think he’s boring.”

George chuckled. “Yeah, he’s awful. Friendly, charming, loves Quidditch—how dare he?”

Fred scowled but didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the door you’d just walked through.

When you and Andrew returned, the evening had mostly calmed down. Fred kept to himself, though his eyes followed you whenever you weren’t looking.

As the group began to disband for the night, Andrew turned to you, his smile warm and easy. “I had a great time the other night. Do you think you’d want to do it again? Soon?”

Fred’s head snapped up at Andrew’s words, but he quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with his deck of cards.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to Fred for just a moment. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and averted eyes. Ignoring him and the little voice in the back of your mind, you turned back to Andrew.

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Andrew’s grin widened. “Great. I’ll find you tomorrow to figure out the details.”

You nodded, and as Andrew left, you glanced back at Fred one last time. He was shuffling his cards with unnecessary force, avoiding your gaze entirely. Weird.

Over the next couple of weeks, your relationship with Andrew began to take shape. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life.

He wasn’t overly pushy or demanding, which you appreciated, and he had a way of making you laugh—though not quite as effortlessly as Fred could.

Still, it felt nice to have someone show genuine interest in you, even if the spark you were hoping for wasn’t quite there yet.

Of course, Andrew didn’t just win you over—he charmed everyone.

“Well, he’s bloody polite,” George said one evening after Andrew left the common room. “And he brought snacks. Can’t argue with that.”

Angelina nodded in agreement. “He’s sweet. You picked a good one.”

“Of course she did,” Fred muttered, slumping lower in his chair.

Lee gave Fred a side-eye. “You alright, mate? You’ve been acting off lately.”

“I’m fine,” Fred said quickly, grabbing a deck of cards and shuffling them with unnecessary vigor. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lee raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.

The thing was, Fred wasn’t fine.

He didn’t know what it was about Andrew that rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was how the bloke always seemed to be around now, sitting beside you in the common room or leaning in too close when you laughed at one of his jokes.

Fred told himself it was just the newness of it all. You’d always been his person—his partner-in-crime, his go-to for pranks, his late-night snack accomplice. And now Andrew was stealing you away.

It was irritating.

But Fred wasn’t jealous. Definitely not.

One afternoon, the group decided to head down to the lake to take advantage of the rare sunny weather.

Andrew and George carried the food, Angelina and Lee brought the blankets, and you walked ahead with Fred, your pace slowing as you chatted.

“So,” Fred said casually, kicking a stone along the path, “how’s Prince Charming?”

You gave him a look. “He has a name, you know.”

“Right. Andy.”

“Andrew,” you corrected, rolling your eyes.

“Same thing,” Fred said with a shrug.

You sighed. “He’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Fred said, though his tone was anything but casual. “Just wondering how long he plans to stick around.”

“Why? You planning to scare him off?” you asked, your voice teasing but laced with curiosity.

Fred grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before you could respond, Andrew called your name from behind, jogging to catch up with you.

Fred fell silent, his jaw tightening as Andrew slipped into step beside you, his hand brushing yours as he walked.

By the time you reached the lake, Fred was thoroughly annoyed.

As everyone settled on the blankets, Andrew took the spot beside you, leaning close to whisper something that made you laugh. Fred sat across from you, stabbing at his sandwich with unnecessary force.

“You alright there, Fred?” Angelina asked, nudging him with her foot.

“Fine,” Fred said tightly, taking an aggressive bite.

George smirked. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you’re awfully bothered.”

Fred glared at his twin but said nothing.

As the sun began to set, Andrew offered to walk you back to the castle, and you accepted with a smile. Fred watched the two of you leave, his chest tightening as your laughter faded into the distance.

“Mate,” George said, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “You’ve got it bad.”

Fred scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” George said with a knowing grin.

If there was one thing Fred Weasley prided himself on, it was his ability to remain unshakable. Cool under pressure. Steady in the face of chaos.

Except, apparently, when Andrew was around.

“I’m just saying,” Fred declared loudly, leaning back in his chair with the kind of dramatic flair that immediately drew everyone’s attention, “no one is that nice. It’s suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” Angelina repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” Fred said, gesturing wildly as if this were common knowledge. “No one can laugh at every single joke. Even George’s bad ones.”

“Oi!” George protested, though he was grinning. “My jokes are masterpieces.”

Andrew, seated comfortably next to you, chuckled. “I don’t know, George. That one about the Blast-Ended Skrewts last week was a bit of a stretch.”

Fred’s eyes narrowed. “See? Right there. He’s even polite when he’s being critical. Who does that?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Fred, are you really mad because Andrew is nice?”

“I’m not mad!” Fred insisted, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I’m just… observant. He’s too nice. It’s unnatural.”

“Fred,” Lee said, struggling to keep a straight face, “I think you might be allergic to decent human behavior.”

The group erupted in laughter, and for a moment, even you couldn’t hide your amusement. But Fred wasn’t done yet.

“Mark my words,” Fred continued, pointing dramatically at Andrew, “this whole ‘charming and perfect’ act is going to crack one day. And when it does—”

Andrew held up his hands, laughing lightly. “Alright, you’ve got me. I’ll admit it: I burned toast once. Twice, actually. Sometimes I even leave the cap off the toothpaste.”

“Oh, the horror,” Lee said, clutching his chest mockingly. “Fred, are you sure we’re safe in his presence?”

Fred scowled, muttering something under his breath.

You shot him a look, your patience wearing thin. “Fred, if you’re so bothered by something, maybe you should do something about it.”

Fred blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in your tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, standing to grab a glass of water. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

Fred watched you leave the room, the weight of your words settling uncomfortably in his chest.

“What’s her problem?” he muttered, glancing at the others.

Angelina snorted. “You’re joking, right?”

Fred frowned. “What?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, nothing,” George said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with you acting like a jealous prat every time Andrew breathes in her direction.”

“I’m not jealous!” Fred shot back, his voice a little too loud.

“Sure you’re not,” Lee said, patting him on the shoulder.

Angelina leaned forward, her smirk practically glowing. “Fred, has it ever occurred to you that you’re not mad at Andrew? You’re mad because he’s with her, and you’re not.”

Fred opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He shut it again, glaring at the lot of them as they burst into laughter.

“Honestly,” George said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen Blast-Ended Skrewts with more self-awareness.”

Fred groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all useless,” he muttered.

“Hey, we’re just here to point out the obvious,” Lee said with a grin. “The rest is up to you, lover boy.”

&

The Three Broomsticks was warm and bustling with chatter, the kind of lively atmosphere that could distract anyone from their troubles.

Fred leaned back in his chair, nursing a mug of butterbeer, and let the noise wash over him.

It had been weeks since he’d felt this at ease. For once, he wasn’t thinking about Andrew or the way he seemed to occupy every spare moment of your time.

Because, for the first time in a long while, it was just the group—George, Lee, Angelina, you, and him—laughing, joking, and bickering like always. And with you sitting across from him, grinning over the rim of your butterbeer as you teased George about his latest failed prank, Fred felt… content.

Comfortable. Like everything was back to normal.

But then the door to the pub opened, letting in a gust of cold air and a familiar figure.

Fred’s stomach twisted the moment he saw Andrew.

“Hey, everyone,” Andrew said, his smile easy and confident as he approached the table.

Fred tried to focus on his drink, on George cracking a joke, on literally anything else—but then Andrew leaned down, his hand brushing your shoulder, and kissed you.

It wasn’t long, just a brief, casual kiss on the lips, but it might as well have been a Bludger to Fred’s chest.

The laughter at the table carried on, the others welcoming Andrew like they always did, but Fred barely heard a word. His mind was spinning, his heart racing, and for the first time, he couldn’t keep up the denial.

It wasn’t just irritation. It wasn’t just protectiveness.

It was jealousy.

Pure, undeniable jealousy.

And it wasn’t just because Andrew had you—it was because Fred wanted you.

The realization hit him like a brick wall. Every time you laughed at Andrew’s jokes, every time you brushed his hand with yours, every time you smiled at him with that soft, affectionate look in your eyes—it burned.

Because Fred wanted to be the one making you laugh, holding your hand, earning your smiles.

But it wasn’t him. And now, sitting here, watching Andrew slide into the seat beside you, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair, Fred finally understood why it hurt so much.

&

Fred paced the length of the Gryffindor common room like a man possessed, his hands raking through his hair as George, Angelina, and Lee lounged on the sofa, watching with varying degrees of amusement.

“She kissed him,” Fred muttered for the fiftieth time, his voice tinged with both disbelief and frustration.

“Yes, Fred,” Angelina said patiently, not bothering to hide her smirk. “We were all there. You don’t need to recap.”

“But—” Fred turned on his heel, his expression wild. “How did I not see it before? How did none of you tell me?”

George snorted. “Mate, we’ve been dropping hints for years. You’re just thick.”

“Excuse me?” Fred stopped pacing long enough to glare at his twin.

Lee chimed in, grinning. “He’s right, you know. It’s been painfully obvious to everyone but you. Honestly, we were starting to think you’d never figure it out.”

Fred groaned, collapsing into a chair and burying his face in his hands. “What am I supposed to do now? She’s happy with Andrew. I can’t just…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You could do nothing,” Angelina suggested, crossing her arms. “Let her be happy. Maybe keep your mouth shut for once in your life.”

Fred glared at her. “Thanks for the support, Ang. Really helpful.”

“I’m just saying,” Angelina continued, shrugging. “If you care about her, maybe you don’t ruin things for her. It’s not about you, Fred.”

George tilted his head. “Or—and hear me out—you could tell her how you feel and let her decide.”

Lee grinned. “Or—and this is my favorite option—you stage an elaborate prank to scare off Andrew, then swoop in as the knight in shining armor.”

Fred groaned again, throwing his head back against the chair. “You’re all useless.”

“Hey, I’m giving you options,” Lee said defensively.

“Yeah,” George added. “And Angelina’s just saying what she’d do if she were you. Personally, I think you should grow a pair and tell her the truth.”

Fred shot him a look. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Angelina said, her tone softer now. “But you’ve got to figure it out, Fred. Otherwise, you’re just going to keep driving yourself—and the rest of us—mad.”

The sound of the portrait hole opening drew their attention, and there you were, stepping inside with your bag slung over one shoulder and a slight frown on your face.

Fred’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately sat up straighter, trying to look normal—which, of course, only made him look even more suspicious.

“Everything okay?” you asked, glancing between the group and Fred’s suspiciously guilty expression.

“Fine!” Fred said quickly, his voice a little too loud.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push, instead walking over to your usual spot by the fire. You dropped your bag on the floor and pulled out a stack of parchment, rifling through it with a small, frustrated sigh.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off you. It wasn’t anything special—just you being you—but the way your hair caught the firelight, the tiny furrow in your brow as you concentrated, the way you bit your lip when something didn’t go right…

In that moment, Fred knew.

Knew that no one else would ever make him feel the way you did. Knew that no one else would ever measure up to you. Knew that he couldn’t keep this to himself anymore.

Now he just had to figure out how to tell you.

“Merlin, he’s gone,” George muttered, nudging Angelina. “Look at him.”

Fred ignored them, his mind racing as he tried to think of something—anything—to say. But for once in his life, words failed him.

Fred had never been one to overthink things. Usually, he went with his gut, said whatever was on his mind, and dealt with the consequences later. But when it came to you, every plan he came up with seemed doomed from the start.

The first time he tried, it was on the way to Charms. He’d spotted you walking ahead, your bag slung over one shoulder and your hair bouncing as you moved. His heart did that stupid thing where it sped up, and before he could stop himself, he called your name.

“Hey,” you said, slowing to let him catch up.

“Hey,” he replied, suddenly feeling like his tongue had turned to lead.

You smiled at him, that warm, easy smile that made his chest ache. “What’s up?”

Fred opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Andrew appeared from the other direction.

“There you are,” Andrew said, grinning as he slipped an arm around your waist.

Fred’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. “Right. See you in class,” he mumbled, walking off before either of you could reply.

The second attempt came during a group study session in the library.

Fred had been unusually quiet, his eyes darting to you every few seconds. You were sitting across from him, absently twirling your quill as you read over your notes.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, leaning forward.

You looked up, tilting your head. “Yeah?”

“I—”

“Shh!” Madam Pince hissed from across the room, glaring at Fred like he’d just set one of her precious books on fire.

Fred sighed, leaning back in his chair as George smirked beside him. “Smooth,” George muttered under his breath.

The third time wasn’t even his fault.

He’d waited until you were alone in the common room, curled up in your usual chair by the fire. It was late, and most of the others had gone to bed, leaving the room quiet and cozy.

Fred took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he approached. “Hey, can we talk?”

You looked up at him, your expression soft but curious. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Fred hesitated, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue. This was it. He just had to say it.

But before he could, Lee burst into the room, laughing loudly about something George had apparently done. The noise startled both of you, and whatever fragile moment had been building between you vanished in an instant.

Fred sighed, watching as you smiled politely at Lee’s antics before heading upstairs to your dorm.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Andrew was as kind and attentive as ever, but your heart wasn’t fully in it. You caught yourself zoning out during conversations, your mind drifting to memories of late-night laughs and pranks with Fred.

Andrew noticed.

“You’ve been a bit distant lately,” he said one evening as you sat together by the lake. His tone was calm but serious, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, though you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for.

Andrew smiled faintly, shaking his head. “We should talk. Really talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with unease and the underlying feeling of already knowing what was about to come.

&

The rain fell steadily, soaking through your cloak and chilling you to the bone, but you didn’t care. After your conversation with Andrew, you’d needed space to think, to feel, to breathe.

That was why you stayed in the same spot he left you in, even when it began to pour.

But tonight, the storm wasn’t just inside.

The sound of footsteps on the dock pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see Fred, his red hair plastered to his forehead and water dripping from his clothes.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice carrying over the rain.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, looking equal parts frustrated and relieved. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You shrugged, turning your gaze back to the water. “Needed to think.”

Fred hesitated, then stepped closer, the wood creaking under his weight. “And you couldn’t think inside? Where it’s dry?”

You huffed a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Guess not.”

An awkward silence stretched between you as the rain continued to fall. Fred shifted on his feet, clearly trying to work up the courage to say something.

He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he blurted finally, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “You’re out here in the rain, and I’m the idiot who followed you, and… Merlin, I don’t even know where to start.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression guarded. “Then don’t.”

Fred shook his head. “No, I have to. Because—because you drive me mad. You’re all I can think about, and it’s infuriating because I don’t even know when it started, but it’s just… there. All the time.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice.

“You know, Andrew is… perfect, really. Kind, understanding. Says all the right things. And he’s right. He’s everything I should want.”

Fred’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “If he’s so perfect, then why are you out here? With me?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and you blinked, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Why, if Andrew’s so perfect, are you standing out here in the rain with me instead of him?” Fred pressed, his voice soft but insistent.

Your chest ached, and before you could stop yourself, the truth spilled out. “Because he’s not you, Fred! He never was.”

Fred stared at you, his breath hitching as your words sank in.

You laughed bitterly, swiping at your wet face. “Andrew is kind and caring and everything I should want. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s not you. And that’s why we ended things. He knows he’s not the one I want to be with.”

Fred didn’t move for a moment, as though your words had stunned him. His wide eyes searched yours, raindrops slipping down his face, mingling with the uncertainty you saw flicker there.

But then, something shifted. Determination sparked in his gaze, and in one swift motion, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His hands, rough yet gentle, cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your rain-damp cheeks.

The kiss came like a thunderclap—fierce, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. His lips claimed yours with a desperation that stole the breath from your lungs, as though this was the only way he could make you understand everything he couldn’t say.

The rain blurred everything around you—the trees, the lake, the world itself—but Fred’s warmth anchored you. His hands trembled slightly against your skin, betraying the vulnerability beneath his boldness.

A soft gasp escaped you as your fingers curled into the fabric of his soaked shirt, pulling him closer instinctively. The rain had drenched you both, but Fred’s heat seeped through the layers, making you feel like nothing else mattered.

His lips moved against yours, earnest and unrelenting, as though he feared you might slip away if he didn’t hold on tightly enough. And yet, there was no demand in his kiss, only a raw, aching need that left you dizzy.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Fred rested his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. His hands stayed on your face, as if letting go would break the fragile moment between you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but firm, his thumb brushing away the rain—or was it a tear?—from your cheek. “Forgive me?”

The rain continued to fall, cold and relentless, but it didn’t matter. Fred’s eyes searched yours, unguarded and full of something that made your chest ache.

“Always,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute.

Fred’s lips curved into the faintest smile before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less consuming.

From a distance, George and Lee watched from the cover of a nearby tree, Angelina holding an umbrella over them with a triumphant smirk.

“Told you,” George said smugly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lee muttered, crossing his arms, but not before handing George the bag. “I still say it’s weird to bet on your brother’s love life.”

“Not when it’s this predictable,” Angelina chimed in, snatching a Galleon from the bag. “You’re welcome, by the way. I made this happen.”

“You did nothing,” George said, rolling his eyes. “They’re just idiots. Idiots in love.”

[nostalgiabearr]

life is so good

☆ pairing: stonerbf!hyunjin x reader

☆ genre: smut, fluff MDNI 18+

☆ word count: 1k

☆ synopsis: it's been a hard week at work and you really need your boyfriend and a smoke sesh

☆ warnings: weed, smoking weed, unprotected sex (don't!), creampie, nipple play, hyunjin drives a truck lmao??

☆ a/n: y'all cannot tell me this hyunjin wouldn't at least smoke weed. also first work on here omg!! pls pls pls don't hesitate to give feedback

as the end of the week approached, you were feeling exhausted. work felt like it had taken up all your time this week and you barely got to see your lover. thankfully, he was all sprawled out on the couch seemingly lost in his own world. you always admired how he could find the positive in everything.

“hey baby,” you said, kissing him on his cheek to pull him out of his daze, “could we go on a drive? i really need a break.” drive and break were usually code words for i really need my baby and i really need weed.

hyunjin smiled as he leaned in for a full kiss and pushed himself up to embrace you. “of course my love. to the overpass?”

“you know me so well,” you said as you helped him up to his feet. on the way out, hyunjin grabbed some joints, and you stole his long hooded cardigan from him. he couldn’t help but notice your dangerously cropped tank and short shorts that barely left anything to the imagination, and you didn’t make it better by draping his clothes over it.

hyunjin helped you climb into the passenger side of his truck and made his way over to the other side to get going. when you two first started seeing each other, you always thought how odd it was that he owned a truck since he was the complete opposite of the typical truck driver. your opinion, however, changed real fast that first night he laid you down on the truck bed to stargaze and later fuck you. now you shared many nights with him smoking, eating, laughing, and fucking in that truck that it could not be a more perfect vehicle for him to own. tonight would be another one of those perfect nights with your perfect boy.

after a quick drive, you two were situated under your favorite abandoned freeway. nestled into the corner of the truck bed, hyunjin took out a joint, pressing it between your lips and flicking the lighter to life. as you took a long drag, hyunjin rested his head in your lap and gazed lovingly up at you.

“tell me what’s wrong baby?” he said before stealing a hit of the joint himself. It was always so easy to open up to him regardless of his carefree nature. hyunjin knew how to be serious when you really needed it and you appreciated that so much. being with him rarely had its down days, but life outside your bubble was sure to not live up to your standards.

as you ranted about rude customers and how your manager somehow stuck the stick up his ass even deeper, hyunjin rubbed slow circles into your thighs. your thin shorts were practically exposing your pussy and hyunjin knew how needy a rough week and weed would leave you. gripping your thigh even tighter, hyunjin maneuvered you to straddle his lap and get even closer to him. 

“remember baby, the world and love are on our side. those people have nothing but karma on their side if they can be mean to my girl.” there was that famous catchphrase of his once again. hyunjin always reminded you that the world and love had you in good hands and everyone else was miserable because they didn’t understand that concept.

with a sigh, you shifted down even harder onto his lap, earning a groan from him. “thank you for listening baby,” you said grabbing the now withered joint from his hands. taking the last hit from it, you ushered him closer and blew the smoke into his mouth as you kissed him deeply. hyunjin’s arms snaked around to your waist as he inhaled the bits you blew into him.

he knew how needy you got, suspecting earlier when you walked in the door from work how this night would end. you were always so in awe of how in tune he was with your emotions, always open to listen, but knowing you had to come to him first before offering his open arms.

sex was pretty much the same, the two of you now moving in sync, grinding against each other as your kisses got sloppier. hyunjin’s hands wandered slowly against your form eventually shrugging his cardigan off your shoulders so he could get a better look at you. his lips fell from yours to stare for a moment before caressing his hands under your short tank top and moving the thin fabric away from your hardening nipples. his lips quickly attached to one while one hand moved from your hips to twist your nipple slowly.

eventually, you had enough and hastily undid his jeans to reveal his straining cock. with his help, you moved your shorts to the side and sunk slowly onto him. time always seemed to stop during sex with hyunjin, but it truly ceased to exist when high. it was like your bodies melted together like this, and with the stars above you, it seemed as if you two were the last people on earth.

as you started to ride him, hyunjin sat up to be able to whisper sweet nothings in your ear and hold you impossibly close.

“my baby is so so good for me, going dumb on my cock and making me see stars.”

soon your slow thrusts turned desperate ruts against each other, your orgasms both quickly approaching. hyunjin’s grip on your hips became bruising as he kissed you sloppily once again urging you to both release at the same time.

“so fucking good, hyune. Gonna cum.”

“me too baby. let all your worries go.” with that, you both let out high pitched moans and slowed your thrusts down as you came against each other. a little piece of each other coming together to fill each other with so much love.

neither of you could muster the energy to pull off each other, instead opting to stare at the stars once again. nothing could beat the feeling of being high on each other, the weed now pretty much out of your systems.

“better now baby?” hyunjin asked as he played with your hair.

“mhm. life is so good with you my love.”

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

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[leeknot]

Hello i love your fics may I please have a request of skz ot7 jealous of jeongin girlfriend who's younger than jeongin and she's really smart and really beautiful but also an amazing loyal girlfriend to jeongin even though it's her first relationship and she takes care of all of them like always cooking and cleaning up after them and she is close to and has a bond with each of them and they each get a little possessive even though she isn't theirs and if you are comfortable make it a smutty and jeongin is fine with sharing

Eight Boys, One Girl

A/N : Haiii :3 Thank you so much for requesting this @babygirlskz98!! I'm really glad that you love my fics <33 I really had fun writing this and I hope it turned out the way you imagined it :))

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Pairing : skz OT8 × reader

Warnings : smut

MDNI

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Jeongin walked into the shared dorm room, his heart fluttering with excitement as he anticipated his girlfriend,Y/N's welcoming presence. At nineteen, she was his first love, and her beauty, intellect, and nurturing spirit never ceased to amaze him.

"Hey baby!" he heard her sweet voice call out from the kitchen. The rich aroma of homemade kimchi fried rice filled the air, making his stomach growl.

Jeongin grinned broadly as he sauntered into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Y/N's petite waist from behind. She leaned into his embrace, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she continued stirring the fried rice.

"Mmm, it smells incredible in here." Jeongin praised, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. He loved how she always took care of them, cooking and cleaning without ever complaining.

As if on cue, the other Stray Kids members began filtering into the kitchen, drawn by the tantalizing aroma. Seungmin was the first to approach, his eyes lingering on Y/N with an unusual intensity. "Y/N-ah, you've outdone yourself again,"

Seungmin complemented, sneakily inching closer to her side. Hyunjin flashed a cheeky grin, playfully stealing a piece of fried rice straight from the pan. "Tastes even better than it smells!" he declared with gusto.

While they all gathered around the food, BangChan couldn't help but add, "No wonder we put up with living in such a messy dorm. At least we have a queen who keeps us fed and clean." He winked at Y/N, causing Jeongin to subtly tense up.

Lee Know, ever the observant one, noticed the flicker of jealousy in Jeongin's eyes. He decided to poke the bear, leaning against the counter beside Y/N and casually draping his arm around her shoulders. "Y/N's so smart too, you know." Lee Know remarked,

Jeongin felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him as Lee Know casually leaned in close to his girlfriend. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles turning white. But before he could intervene, Felix sidled up to Y/N's other side, his golden eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Y/N, can I ask you a question?" Felix asked innocently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Y/N turned to face him, only to find Felix's face inches from hers. "Who's your favorite member?"

The room fell silent as all the members awaited Y/N's answer. Jeongin's jaw clenched, his eyes darting between Felix and Y/N. Chan,Minho,Changbin,Hyunjin,Han,Jeongin and Seungmin all looked at her expectantly.

"Well..." Y/N smiled shyly, knowing she had them all in the palm of her hand. Her gaze slowly swept across each of their faces, leaving them on tenterhooks. Jeongin felt his heart skip a beat as she finally spoke "You know what?"

All the members leaned in closer, hanging on Y/N's every word. Her smile widened as she saw how desperately they wanted her favor. "Each of you is special to me in your own way," Y/N announced serenely, "So it's impossible to choose just one favorite. But,"

She paused for dramatic effect, the room holding its breath. "If I really had to pick, I suppose it would be... the one who's been the most protective and caring towards me." Y/N's gaze locked onto Jeongin's, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Jeongin's eyes widened momentarily as Y/N's praise washed over him, a mix of pride and relief washing through his veins. The tension visibly drained from his shoulders as he pulled her more firmly against his chest, basking in this public affirmation of her affection.

As Jeongin clung to Y/N possessively, the air in the kitchen seemed to thicken, charged with a sudden undercurrent of sensual tension. Hyunjin was the first to break the charged silence, his voice a low, playful rumble.

"You know, Y/N," Hyunjin purred, his eyes roaming over her possessively, "Jeongin might be your favorite, but what about the rest of us?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing the other six members to start closing in on Y/N.

Changbin stepped forward, his hand reaching out to stroke Y/N's hair, his warm fingers tangling in the soft strands. "We can't just let Jeongin have all the fun." he said with a smirk, his eyes flicking to Han, who was already undoing Y/N's shirt buttons.

As Han's cold hands pushed Y/N's shirt off her shoulders, revealing her bare collarbone, Felix stepped in, his lips finding the exposed skin and placing gentle kisses there. He looked up at Y/N with lust-filled eyes, "She always smells so good..."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as all 8 men surrounded her, their touches gentle yet possessive. Her cheeks flushed red as she whispered, "Are we really..." Her voice trailed off, a mix of excitement and nerves evident in her tone. "All of you?"

"Every. Last. One." Chan growled playfully, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh, sending sparks of excitement through your body.

Hyunjin slid behind Y/N, his hands cupping her breasts as he murmured huskily in her ear. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of you." Changbin knelt, hands stroking up her thighs while peering at her under hooded lids.

Seungmin, watching the escalating lust with glittering eyes, reached out and began slowly stroking Y/N's hair, tilting her head back. "Just relax and let us worship you." he breathed, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, sensual kiss.

Jeongin, who had been quietly observing from the side, finally stepped forward. His usually playful expression was replaced with a serious, almost predatory gaze. He slowly unbuttoned his own shirt, revealing his chiseled chest. "Turn around,"

"Turn around, precious," Jeongin commanded softly, his voice carrying an unexpected dominance. "I want you to see what you do to us... how badly we all want you." As Y/N slowly turned, he ran his fingertips down her spine, making her shiver.

All eight of them stood in a semicircle around Y/N, their eyes dark with desire as they slowly began removing their clothing, revealing perfect, toned bodies - each unique yet equally captivating. Jeongin's fingers continued tracing patterns on Y/N's back as he pressed closer.

Jeongin's warm breath tickled Y/N's neck as he whispered, "Now, sit on the bed." As Y/N sat, the other seven men slowly approached, surrounding her like predators. Chan knelt in front of her, his hands on her knees.

Chan slowly spread Y/N's thighs, revealing her to the hungry gaze of the seven men surrounding her. Hyunjin knelt beside Chan, his fingers tracing up Y/N's inner thigh. Seungmin stood behind her, his hands resting on her waist.

Minho stood on the other side of the bed, his eyes locked on Y/N's face as he stroked his hard length. Hyunjin, the tallest of the group, loomed over Y/N, his large hands resting on the bed on either side of her head.

Hyunjin leaned down, his face inches from Y/N's, his warm breath fanning over her lips as he spoke in a low, rumbling voice. "We're going to take you together, precious. Every inch of you, filled to the brim with our cocks."

Y/N's breath hitched at his words, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. Jeongin pulled back from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "And we're not going to be gentle." he murmured, his hand reaching out to tangle in her hair.

Seungmin, watching the escalating lust with glittering eyes, reached out and began slowly stroking Y/N's hair, tilting her head back. "Just relax and let us worship you." he breathed, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, sensual kiss.

Jeongin, who had been quietly observing from the side, finally stepped forward. His usually playful expression was replaced with a serious, almost predatory gaze. He slowly unbuttoned his own shirt, revealing his chiseled chest. "Turn around,"

"Turn around, precious," Jeongin commanded softly, his voice carrying an unexpected dominance. "I want you to see what you do to us... how badly we all want you." As Y/N slowly turned, he ran his fingertips down her spine, making her shiver.

All eight of them stood in a semicircle around Y/N, their eyes dark with desire as they slowly began removing their clothing, revealing perfect, toned bodies - each unique yet equally captivating. Jeongin's fingers continued tracing patterns on Y/N's back as he pressed closer.

Jeongin's warm breath tickled Y/N's neck as he whispered, "Now, sit on the bed." As Y/N sat, the other seven men slowly approached, surrounding her like predators. Chan knelt in front of her, his hands on her knees.

Chan slowly spread Y/N's thighs, revealing her to the hungry gaze of the seven men surrounding her. Hyunjin knelt beside Chan, his fingers tracing up Y/N's inner thigh. Seungmin stood behind her, his hands resting on her waist.

Minho stood on the other side of the bed, his eyes locked on Y/N's face as he stroked his hard length. Hyunjin, the tallest of the group, loomed over Y/N, his large hands resting on the bed on either side of her head.

Hyunjin leaned down, his face inches from Y/N's, his warm breath fanning over her lips as he spoke in a low, rumbling voice. "We're going to take you together, precious. Every inch of you, filled to the brim with our cocks."

Y/N's breath hitched at his words, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. Jeongin pulled back from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "And we're not going to be gentle," he murmured, his hand reaching out to tangle in her hair.

With a firm tug, Jeongin pulled Y/N's head back, forcing her to look up at the eight men surrounding her. Chan and Felix both pushed two fingers inside her, stretching her tight pussy as Changbin notched the head of his thick cock against her entrance.

"We're going to fill every hole, precious," Changbin said, his voice low and husky as he began to slowly push inside her. Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into the sheets beneath her. Seungmin leaned down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard.

While Changbin established a steady rhythm, Felix replaced his fingers with his tongue, swirling around her sensitive clit. At the same time, Minho brought his cock to her lips. "Open up, love." he whispered, guiding himself between her lips as Hyunjin watched with heated eyes.

While Changbin continued setting a steady rhythm, Felix maintained his attention on her clit, earning whimpers from Y/N. Han and Seungmin kept their teasing ministrations on her breasts, while Minho gently thrust into her mouth. Jeongin, still holding her hair, whispered in her ear...

"- such a good girl, taking us all..." Jeongin's free hand trailed down to her throat, feeling the vibrations as Minho slowly fucked her mouth While Changbin established a steady pace, Felix's tongue and fingers expertly worked her clit and entrance. "Ready, precious?"

Changbin eased out of her pussy, making way for Felix who pressed his length against her entrance. "Don't worry, love, we'll take care of you." Felix whispered, slowly pushing in while Hyunjin repositioned himself between her thighs to replace Felix's tongue.

Y/N let out a muffled moan around Minho's cock as Felix bottomed out inside her. The feeling of being so full had her eyes rolling back. Seungmin and Han shifted, each lifting one of her legs over their shoulders, opening her up even more for the guys.

Hyunjin lapped at her inner thighs as Jeongin guided Minho's hand to her throat, allowing him to wrap his fingers gently around it. Changbin repositioned himself between her breasts, pressing them together around his length. "Look at me."

Y/N gazed up at Changbin with lust-darkened eyes as he slid his cock between her pressed-together breasts, grunting softly at the slick friction. Seungmin teased her nipple with his tongue while Han pinched the other, sending sparks of pleasure straight to her core.

The guys picked up their pace, fucking and sucking her relentlessly. Felix slammed into her g-spot, causing her to scream around Minho's cock. Changbin's thrusts became erratic as he neared his climax, his cock twitching between her breasts. "Fuck, I'm gonna-!"

Changbin roared, finding his release between her breasts as Felix and Seungmin found their release inside her and on her stomach. Hyunjin lapped up the combined releases as Han and Jeongin guided Minho to finish in her mouth, choking her slightly with his large release.

"Good girl." Minho praised as he pulled out, trailing a string of cum down her chin "Look how beautiful you are like this," Jeongin whispered, wiping the cum from her face gently "Are you okay, precious?" Felix checked in, kissing her temple sweetly.

"More than okay... though I might not be able to walk straight tomorrow," she managed a weak, satisfied smile, her body still trembling with aftershocks "Good," Chan chuckled, wiping cum from between her breasts "That means we did our job right."

The guys took turns holding and cuddling her, each marking her with their scents again. She fell asleep sandwiched between Felix and Jeongin, their arms wrapped around her protectively. As the sun rose, they all woke up entangled, smiling softly at each other.

"You know, I think we should talk," Felix suggested, sitting up and looking at the group huddled together "We're all obviously very close, and not just physically," He looked at Jeongin "Jeongin, you are her boyfriend, but now..."

Jeongin sighed and then smiled slightly, pulling Y/N closer to him. "It's okay, everyone. I've realized that what's most important is Y/N's happiness, and she clearly finds joy with all of you too. If that means sharing her, well..."

"We're all in this together now?" Han finished, looking around at the group with a hopeful expression. The other guys nodded in agreement, Seungmin speaking up. "We'll all be her boyfriends, officially. No more sneaking around or hiding our feelings."

Jeongin chuckled and then smiled warmly at Y/N. "I'm fine with it, as long as you're happy, my love. I'll just have to get used to sharing you with these idiots." He joked, playfully poking the others.

"Hehe, we'll all share her equally," Felix suggested, "No favoritism, no jealousy." Heungmin nodded in agreement, "And we'll all live together too, right?"

"I love you all so much," Y/N spoke softly, her voice still sleepy from the night's activities "I never intended for this to happen, but... I can't imagine being without any of you now. Are you sure you're all okay sharing?"

"More than okay," Jeongin replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "We've talked about it, and we're all in agreement. We want to be with you, together. No more sneaking around or keeping secrets."

"Yeah, and if anyone has a problem with it, they can talk to us," Han added, his arm wrapping possessively around Y/N's waist. "You're ours now, officially. Our girlfriend, our everything."

And just like that, their unconventional relationship was official. Y/N was now the shared girlfriend of eight loving and possessive men, and they were her devoted boyfriends in every sense of the word.

---

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtySix

Prompt from @travelingtwentysomething

“I want to try it.”

Steve is...ambivalent about the idea, to say the least.

“But what if it...hurts you. Or is poisonous?”

“Eddie has eaten and drunk loads of stuff, I don’t think it’ll hurt him, Steve,” Robin volunteers from the couch. She’s already a little drunk, her and Chrissy cuddled up next to each other.

“It grows out of the ground man, it’s practically a vegetable,” Argyle adds, really unhelpfully.

Jon, who Steve’s pretty sure was wasted before they even got here, adds, “that means it’s good for you. It’s green,” and then he starts giggling.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with big pleading eyes right now, but in a minute he’s going to turn stubborn about it, Steve’s sure, “you haven’t had a beer yet tonight, have you?”

Eddie shakes his head, “no.”

“Well, good, we’re not getting you cross faded right out of the gate, and just a little to start okay, share one with me?”

Eddie agrees immediately, and Argyle is already producing a pre-rolled from a little baggy, “this isn’t the hard shit bro, don’t worry. Baby steps for the little fishy,” Jon is set off giggling again.

They’re sprawled around on the lounge floor, a Christmas record playing, much to Eddie’s vocal disgust. It’s been forgotten now though, and only Nancy thinks to get up and flip it over.

Steve lights it and takes the first drag, holding it. Eddie watching him closely, “okay, go easy yeah, just a little breath in.”

Eddie nods, trying to copy Steve, but inevitably he ends up having a coughing fit, eyes watering. Steve takes it and rubs Eddie’s back, “is it supposed to be like that?” Eddie chokes out, voice a little fucked.

Jon starts giggling again, “he sounds just like great aunt Enid, she smoked a hundred a day.”

“It is to start with,” Steve tells him, “you still want to try?”

Eddie nods, taking the joint back from Steve. He’s more cautious this time, and knows what to expect, so he keeps it down a little better until he lets out a cloud of smoke on a mighty cough, Steve laughs, handing the last of the joint off to Robin’s questing fingers.

“It’d be easier on him if you shot gunned it-” Argyle starts, raising a lewd cheer and plenty of wolf whistles.

“What is shot gunned?”

“I’ll explain when you’re older,” Steve responds reflexively, everyone in the room promptly ‘boos’.

Steve takes a pillow to the face from Chrissy, “come on Steve, he never got to do the high school party thing. Go make out with him in a closet or something.”

Eddie immediately perks up, but then frowns, “why in the closet?”

Chrissy reaches over to smooth Eddie’s curls, clearly pretty trashed herself, “just dumb high school kid stuff baby. Pretty sure you wouldn’t want to play spin the bottle.”

“Spin the bottle?”

“It’s a game,” Steve explains, leaning into Eddie’s side, Argyle might think this stuff isn’t strong, but Steve hasn’t smoked anything for quite some time because of Eddie being around, and Argyle’s judgement on the strength of weed is clearly skewed by his monster tolerance, “say I spin a bottle, like, on the floor. We all sit in a circle around it, and whoever it lands on, we gotta’ kiss.”

Eddie’s face is an almost comedic scowl, “no.”

“No I know, none of that, I promise.”

Steve leans further, looking up from his new place in Eddie’s lap. He blows, making Eddie’s fluffy bangs fly about, giggling. Eddie’s eyes look a little bloodshot, but they crinkle at the corners just the same as he starts giggling too, tugging Steve’s hair in return.

Eddie’s sharp nails feel incredible on Steve’s scalp, “Stevie love, what is shot gun?”

Steve sighs, “someone hand me-” but it’s already there, and lit, Robin must have sourced another from Argyle in the meantime. Steve gets Eddie around the back of the neck, and he leans down easily when Steve pulls on him. Steve takes a deep drag, handing the joint back off to Robin, pulling Eddie down the rest of the way for an open mouthed kiss.

Steve breathes out his lungful, letting his tongue slide across the top of Eddie’s, Eddie gets the idea, breathing in deep, before turning it into a proper kiss and briefly sucking on Steve’s tongue in return.

Steve’s vaguely hopeful that they’re mostly hidden by Eddie’s hair and their position, but it doesn’t stop a dirty cheer being raised by everyone. Steve can’t really find it in himself to care that they’re being watched. The smoke still feels warm when Eddie exhales again, giving Steve slow, soft kisses as they break apart.

“What?” Eddie asks, looking around and, yup, Steve does too, confirming everyone is absolutely staring at them.

“It was hot,” Chrissy says, deadpan, and Robin snorts a laugh so long and ugly she ends it curled up, her forehead pressed to her knees.

“You’re just not...that publicly affectionate,” Nancy explains, probably the only sober person in the room, ��it’s just...still new, you know?”

“Well it’s been like, a year?” Steve’s pretty sure that’s the right thing to say, but his thoughts are kind of syrupy.

Eddie’s playing with his collar now, tugging a little on a bit of chest hair he’s uncovered, “Stee. Eddidie...hungry.”

Steve hums, “yeah, I could eat, come on.”

There’s plenty of snacks laid out in the kitchen, and Steve follows Eddie as he immediately gravitates towards the chocolate cake, cutting himself a really fucking massive slice. Steve snorts a laugh at the size of it, watching as Eddie shovels in the first mouthful, his eyes sliding shut in pleasure as he chews; Steve grabs a fork and helps himself to some of Eddie’s.

“Stee,” Eddie says, kind of plaintive.

“What baby?”

Eddie frowns down at the cake, shaking his head, “good bad.”

“Oh? You want something different?”

But Eddie’s already put the cake down, rummaging in the fridge, he comes back with ketchup. Steve watches as Eddie dollops the ketchup, forks up some cake, dips, and eats.

He’s not entirely sure what to do, but Eddie lets out a quiet sigh of contentment and goes back for more.

Steve caves pretty fast, “that is...actually not that bad.”

Part ThirtyEight

[milky-aeons]

— TO LOVE ME

౨ৎ . . . in which DAZAI OSAMU apologises for being a little too rough.

warnings: semi-nsfw, f!reader, hair-pulling, flashbacks to sexual activity, rough!dazai (he pulled your hair a little too hard), soft!dazai, slight angst, comfort, fluff, non-established relationship, w.c 1.6k

♪ . . . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ november — mahalia ft. stormzy ꒱ ˎˊ-

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍.

It was a type of awareness — a fond little quirk, if you will — that you had developed a few months into dating the Armed Detective Agent. Or as far as dating someone like him would go; he never really liked the label, after all. You were both stuck in that chaotic, intoxicating limbo of not quite lovers, but too far gone from friends. Because friends did not stay the night and wear each-others shirts as you washed the dishes, friends did not hum softly into the empty apartment he owned as you waited for him to return with your favourite take-away coffee.

As if your souls were already intertwined, protesting at even the slightest distance, your whole body sang to life when Dazai Osamu tried to sneak through his front door unnoticed.

With wet fingers, you reached over to turn the faucet off just as his airy voice sifted through the air.

"I'm home~"

"Welcome back." You beat him to it.

Dazai made a wrangled sound. "How do catch me every time I try to sneak up on you?" He moaned, his voice coming closer until he rounded the little alcove of his small, one-walled kitchen. "It's almost like you have a sixth-sense, you know? Oh! We should put this unique talent of yours to the test!"

You hummed, following his playful line of thinking. Does his blood thrum to life underneath his skin when you breeze through the Agency offices, you wonder, does his mind eddy of all thought when you cast your eyes his way — just like it does yours?

You did not know. You would probably never know. But he remembered your exact coffee order perfectly, every single time.

"I'm almost afraid to wonder what that would entail." You muse, drying off your hands and leaning back on the countertop. He handed you one of the take-away cups. "But not for me. If I know you at all, Osamu, then you would definitely tie Kunikida-kun up in this elaborate experiment just to set him back a few days on his schedule."

"Pft. A few days?" He echoed, incredulous. One of his eyebrows raised. "How you insult me. If I don't set Kunikida-kun's precious schedule back by at least one month at a time, then why would I even bother at all?"

"You're absolutely right. My ignorant mistake."

"And yes, you do."

"Hm?" You hummed, uncapping the coffee to take a greedy inhale.

"Know me." Dazai finished.

Those two words jarred you a little. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, wordless, the coffee cup held just an inch from your parted lips. Dazai was looking straight at you with that ever-present unreadable expression, but it was a little softer around the edges, a little less impenetrable this time. This was familiar. This is what you two were; you took each other's hand and danced around the truth. You let things hang in the air, unsaid, untouched, staring at one another in his apartment while you wore his shirt like you were both in love — but not quite, not yet.

"Do I?" You said softly. You reached for that thing left unsaid and used it to challenge him.

He tilted his head, amused. Letting you rock the boat. His unkempt curls slid across his forehead when he did. But as always, he said nothing. He danced. He changed the subject.

Do I know you, Osamu?

Instead, he let his dark eyes wander to the dishes you had stacked on the drainage rack. "Wah, [Name]!" He exclaimed with exaggerated shock. "Did you clean the dishes while I was gone?! If you keep doing things like that I'll seriously have to marry you, you know!"

Precarious. A tease. Oh, but he loves to twirl with you close to the fire.

You stayed silent, opting to take a sip, instead. A small, bashful smile fought its way onto your face — you hid behind the disposable cup, but you knew he caught it. Dazai Osamu caught everything, but only with you, did he wear that boyish, self-satisfied grin when he saw the effect he had on your heart.

The sunlight was soft and choppy as it filtered through his broken shutters that barely gave any privacy to the kitchen. It was winter time; Yokohama was bustling, as it always is, but this corner of the city was delightfully sleepy. It was just you and him, enjoying the silence of two people almost in love. A car horn beeped in the distance. You noticed the smattering of freckles on his nose when he stepped forward into one of the balmy sunbeams.

Quietly, Dazai reached towards you. You didn't move — how could you? — as his long fingers half-hidden in bandages danced across your exposed shoulder. A shiver broke out across the skin he barely touched. He noticed. He grew bolder, slyer, letting his lazy touch flutter across your skin; the column of your neck; tickling the nape of your neck and burying into the mussed tresses of your hair—

"Ow—!"

You winced.

Dazai jerked his hand away. "What's wrong?"

You placed your coffee cup down and lifted your fingers to where his own had just been. With ginger movements, you traced the tender spot, your face souring into a grimace at the little shoots of pain that resided there. It was still sore, you noticed. And so did Dazai. When you glanced up at him, his brows had knit together. Not quite a picture of concern — but pressingly curious, his eyes wide and imploring.

And for the first time that lazy morning, you found yourself averting your gaze from him. You stayed quiet for a pregnant moment, searching for the right words as Dazai too, placed his cup down. He dipped his head, trying to meet your eyes. "Bella?" He called again, his voice soft and coaxing.

"Sorry," You chuckled quietly, smiling small. You gave the tender spot another rub before releasing your hand from your hair. "It's just a little sore, that's all."

Dazai's lips tugged down into a frown. "Sore—?" A bell chimed on some astral plane of recognition. His words died on his tongue, his expression halting. You saw the shutter in his eyes then; his mind moving, racing, taking scintillations of the night you two shared and meshing them back together.

You had let him do it before — fisting his lithe fingers into your hair while you were both caught in the throes of passion. As a matter of fact, you quite liked it. He'd bow your head back and decorate your lovely neck with a multitude of bruises, just for you. Or during those times where you took control — settling between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. You'd start slow first; taking the length of him into your mouth, licking, kissing. But as you picked up the pace and worked him right to a fever pitch — Dazai would wind his hand into your hair. Around, around, until he had a decent grip, and guide your movement just the way he needed it.

It had been an accident last night — but you still had not mentioned it; had not wanted to draw too much attention as you knew he did not mean it. It was a frenzy on both parts. But he had gripped your hair and tugged it a bit too tight. A bit too rough. Leaving the spot at the crown of your head tender as you passed a brush over it once you two were done.

He remained so uncharacteristically silent — staring at you like he was meeting you from a previous lifetime again after searching for so long. You tilted your head, suddenly worried. It wasn't like you were upset with him — so why did he look like that? Like he had revoked any and all permission to touch you? Like he was suddenly afraid?

Dazai was not acquainted with words of apology. He had went his whole life posing as a shadow, looking in on people and never being a part of them. But standing there looking down at you with the realisation that he had hurt you, that he — by his hand — had brought harm to someone like you — a sudden paralysis took hold of his body. He stared at you with wide eyes. He couldn't speak. He felt like he had lost all privilege to be near you — that for the first time in his life, he had met someone so bright and so genuine, and he had succeeded at tainting that, too.

He was abominable. He had always been, it was part of his makeup, ingrained into the lining of his very bones.

And yet, to him, he was also selfish. Because he had the gall to ask for your forgiveness.

"I'm," Dazai started. It wasn't like him to be at a loss for words. "I . . . [Name] I didn't realise . . . "

"Osamu, really — it's okay," You implored, your expression honest. "I know you didn't mean to. I'm fine! Just a little sore, is all." Smile turning lopsided, you turned to fully face him. "How about next time, we just don't pull as hard? I do really like when you play with my hair, but not that rough. Hm?"

Dazai opened his mouth to speak — but whatever he wanted to say got lost between his head and his tongue. He blinked once, twice. Then, in such a quiet voice, he whispered, ". . . I apologise. I'd never try to hurt you, beautiful [Name]. It will not happen again."

It was so resolute. In a tone you have never heard Dazai Osamu speak with before; not quite unsure, but lacking the perfectly precise way he would usually choose his words with. It speared into your chest and made your heart lurch. Such a raw, clean-cut promise. Like he'd burn his own hand before he let himself cause any such harm to you, ever again.

The smile that softened the sides of your lips no longer belonged to someone who was almost in love.

You reached out suddenly for his hand before he could react. You guided his palm to your face, nuzzling into his warm touch, delighting in the soft scratch of bandages against your cheek. "I know. I'm sorry too, for not mentioning it sooner."

I love you, it was the three words you still left unsaid. Because not quite, not yet. Although the way Dazai's fingers curled against the shell of your ear, the way he stepped forward to tug you into his sturdy chest — something about it all whispered the words I love you, too.

from this lovely nonnie // writing requests!

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Chapter 15 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2300

“Where are we sleeping tonight?” You asked Joel, though immediately you regretted asking. It wasn't his responsibility to figure things out for the two of you.

“Next door to each other?” He toyed with your hair as you hovered a few inches above him in the back of the truck, but you shook your head.

“No.”

Joel laughed. “Well, what do you suggest?”

“I don't know,” you admitted. “But I can't be apart from you right now.”

“Oh you can't huh?” He grinned up at you.

“No.” You smiled back and leaned down and touched your lips to his.

“My brother has a two family house. He knows my situation is fucked up. Maybe we could spend the night there.”

“Does he know about us?”

Joel shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Would it be okay with him if I was with you?”

“I don't see why not.” Joel continued to run his fingers through your hair and you closed your eyes. “Worst case scenario..” He pulled you toward him to kiss along your collarbone, “We can go camping.”

You giggled against him and bit down on your bottom lip when he kissed down your breasts and latched on to your nipple.

“I'll go anywhere with you,” you whispered, cupping the back of his head and gently grabbing a fistful of hair.

You were completely immersed in one another again. After all was said and done you almost suggested just sleeping in the truck; though Joel finally talked you into putting your clothes on and getting back in the truck.

“I'm going to call Tommy,” he explained, finally starting up the engine. “My brother.”

You nodded and began typing your message to your mom that you were out for the night. It pained you to hit send because you knew for the first time in your life, you and her were not on the same page. That was the one part of the whole ordeal that didn't feel right. Still, you knew your decisions were yours, alone. Leaving Joel wasn't an option.

“Hey,” Joel had the phone to his ear and you could hear the faint voice of Tommy on the other end. “You still have that space available on the upper floor?” He paused and nodded. “Alright.” Another paused, “Great, thank you.” Joel huffed a laugh, “I'll pick you up a thirty pack of Bud Lite.” Pause, “I'll leave it on the front step for when you get back. Thanks man. I owe ya.”

You smiled to yourself, noting it must have worked out. When Joel turned, you smiled. “We all booked?”

“We’re booked,” he confirmed, “As long as you don't mind a swing by the package store.”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

Joel grabbed your hand and kissed along your knuckles. “Good.”

Things felt right at home when you were beside Joel. Nothing mattered. You were light as air. When the two of you strolled into the liquor store to get Tommy his beer, Joel picked up a bottle of champagne and winked as the two of you checked out.

“Champagne huh?” You asked as you were securely back in the cab of his truck.

Joel nodded and linked his hand with yours. “I figured I'd get us a little something.”

Your heart was full. In fact it felt like it grew three sizes. You were so completely in love that you knew if this ever were to end it would be difficult to bounce back from. Still, you pushed the negative thoughts away. Things were good. You and Joel were on the same page in the same book.

When his truck cruised into Tommy’s driveway, Joel parked in the back behind the house near a detached garage. The house was in a suburban neighborhood, though trees surrounded the property, making it at least semi-private. In the back of the house was an outdoor staircase that led up to the second floor. That was where Joel led the two of you after leaving Tommy’s beer on the front porch.

“I have a key,” he explained, and you noted that he and his brother must have been close. Joel propped open the back door that gave way to an upper deck and the two of you made your way inside.

You glanced around the interior. The first step inside was a quaint, little kitchen that gave way to the living room. Down the short hallway, you soon discovered, were two bedrooms and a bathroom. Almost right away, Joel spoke the words you were thinking.

“I wonder if he'd let us stay here until we figured shit out.”

Yes. Yes. Yes! From the second you walked in the door you wanted that.

“Us?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Joel turned and read your face, “Us.”

You smiled wide. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“This is crazy, isn't it?”

You shook your head and leaned in, pleased when Joel met you with a needy kiss. “This doesn't feel crazy.”

“What's it feel like then?”

“Just right.” The words naturally rolled off your tongue and the two of you began to make out in the hallway. “Maybe a little crazy.”

Joel snickered against your lips. “Come on. Let's get settled in.”

You did just that, selecting the bigger of the two bedrooms to reside in before dropping off your bag of clothes. Joel found a mason jar in a cabinet, rinsed it out and put your toothbrushes in it before finally you both settled down on the couch and put a movie on.

Joel retrieved a pair of glasses and the bottle of champagne, making you wince with a giggle just before the cork popped.

“I'm not going to lie,” you admitted, “I had a feeling that was going to spray everywhere.”

Joel laughed lightly and shook his head. “I'm an expert.” He poured you each a glass and set the bottle down on the table in front of the couch.

As you held your glass out you asked, “What should we toast to?”

“To new beginnings,” he suggested.

“The beginning of..” your voice began to trail off. You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence.

“The beginning of..?” Joel held your stare and you couldn't look away from his eyes.

“Nothing,” you laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear.”

“No, say it.”

You shook your head.

“Come on.” His smile convinced you. In that moment you knew he could probably convince you to do anything.

“Ughh..” you cringed but finally manned up the courage, “To the beginning of forever.. possibly.” There we're your insecurities taking the reigns.

“Possibly?” Joel continued to own your gaze. Raised his eyebrows. “Drop that word, baby.”

You spoke with more confidence. “To the beginning of forever.”

Joel still didn't look away and tapped his glass to yours. “Cheers to that.”

Fuck. There went the next size up of your heart. You were all in - not that you weren't before. But this man, you knew for certain, had your beating heart in the palms of his hands. Maybe you held the same power. Still, it was scary, exciting and made you feel more alive than ever all at once.

You each took a sip. Your eyes stayed locked on Joel’s. His eyes remained on yours. You drank about half the small glass and then placed it down next to the bottle. When Joel was done taking his sip, you removed the glass from his hand and set it down before straddling him on the couch.

His hands dropped to your hips and your lips eagerly found his again as you snaked your arms around the back of his neck.

“I'm not kidding,” you whispered against him.

“I'm not either.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The eye contact was pulling you in as much as his kisses and touches. Joel was intense and he pulled you in so easily.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and then added. “Please.”

Joel's plea made your body feel hot. You kissed him sensually at first. And then it became more desperate. You kissed one another every time like it would be the last time. It was hot and addicting.

Your clothes were on the floor within minutes and you took control of the moment, reaching for Joel’s hard cock as he dropped his pants to his ankles. His arms outstretched the length of the couch when you positioned him at your entrance and then lowered yourself down onto him.

Joel's head dropped back onto the top of the couch when he felt you tighten around him, but you pressed your lips to his forcing his head back up.

“Kiss me,” you echoed his words from a few minutes before. “Please.” When you rolled your hips he groaned into your mouth.

Joel's arms wrapped around you and he aided in helping you move on top of him. He growled your name in a whisper, letting his teeth graze your lower lip. It made you moan.

“Let it out,” Joel begged.

“What if he hears us-”

“Tommy’s not home.” Joel thrusted up into you and you cried out and whimpered, holding him harder. “I never want you to hold back with me.” His fingertips dug into your back and nibbled down your neck until his tongue swirled around left nipple.

“Joel..” you whined his name. When he trusted up into you harder again you whined again. And then moaned louder when he impaled you again and again.

Your legs trembled and thighs tightened around the outsides of his. You felt tears in the corners of your eyes and as you continued to ride him they fell. You whimpered again and Joel’s thumb grazed your cheek, wiping away the stray tears.

“(Y/N)..” His voice was concerned now but you kept moving on top of him.

“Don't stop,” you begged. Emotion flooded every part of you. So did a wave of pleasure. The build up was making your head spin. “I'm about to c-” The burst of pleasure halted your sentence and you cursed as your body stiffened. “Fuck.. Joel.” You grabbed him as hd steadied your hips with his hands, rocking your hips through your orgasm as you did as he asked you do. You let it out. You let it all out.

You moaned, you whimpered, you choked out his name as stars erupted behind your tightly pressed eyes you felt the flow of more tears stream down your face.

“Fuck..” you cried out, feeling a thudding pulse between your legs. At the same time a warmth filled you and knew Joel came just a few seconds after. He groaned into your neck and held your hips harder, leaving panting breaths against your neck.

You felt like you were on another planet for a moment, until Joel finally snapped you out of the daze.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Hey.. (Y/N)..”

Your eyes opened and your felt a dampness on your eyelashes. Joel looked back at you from an inch away and you laughed as you continued to sob quietly.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

You were crying. Out of the blue. In the middle of your orgasm.

“Hey..” Joel repeated, touching your cheek with one hand.

You sniffed in and took in a few deep breaths in a row. Tears fell from your eyes when they closed and you reopened them.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded. “I don't know why..” you shook your head. “I'm just..” you had nothing. You didn't know what you were saying or why this sudden eruption of emotion was coming out this way. “I love you.” You laughed again and felt completely crazy as you fell apart in his lap.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said right away with a smile. “No. I don't.. I don't know why I'm crying.” You laughed and cried. Laughed and cried.

Joel’s arms secured around your body again and he held you against him, kissing your forehead, your cheek and then the area beneath your eyes.

You let out a deep breath and dried your eyes. “I'm sorry. I just.. I'm not used to feeling like this. I'm.. I don't know.”

When Joel brushed your hair away from your face and your eyes met again you swallowed hard.

“I promise I won't hurt you,” he said.

You gave a half-smirk. “I know.”

“I love you. And I'm sorry if this is putting a strain on your relationship with your mom.”

You swallowed hard. “I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too.”

“I mean it,” you went on. “When I'm not with you I'm looking at my phone wondering when you'll call or text me me next. I think about you. I always think about you.”

“Then let's move in here,” Joel said. “Together. You and me.”

This was all so new and felt impulsive. But it also felt right. Joel wasn't even officially divorced yet. Your relationship was new. It didn't matter. You only had one word to say back.

“Yes.”

Joel could read you were certain in your response. He dried your eyes again and kissed you once chastely on the lips. “I'm feeling what you're feeling.”

“I know.”

“I'm going to be with you so much you're going to get sick of me.” He tipped up the corner of his lips in a half-grin and you smiled back. When another tear fell he wiped it away.

“I'd like to test that,” you told him. “And prove you wrong.”

“So, pending Tommy's approval,” Joel went on, “You're going to move in with me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

Joel smiled. “Let it out.”

You laughed and said it louder. “Yes!”

“Yes?”

You shouted now. “Yes!”

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @vickie5446 @writlingerz @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[sailornymph]

‘F*CK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME’

how the uchiha men are in bed

cw : nsfw, choking, slapping, etc…

authorsnote : hi everyone and welcome, i hope you enjoy, please stick around for more. 

♡︎ madara uchiha

— at least 8.5 inches, all uchiha men give third leg energy

— he’s really loud, he moans, grunts, calls out your name; anyone passing by could probably hear him, he doesn’t have any shame

— he loves cowgirl, he likes women who are strong like him and he enjoys watching you show him how much you could take

— loves to fuck your face after a long day

— he’s not into foreplay and not much of a eater, but his fingers, they’ll make your toes curl everytime

— he is rough, but with care, asking you if you’re okay, how does it feel, are you ready

— he may be a warrior and clan leader but in the safety of his home with his wife, he is a gentleman

— he’s okay at aftercare, it’s usually you catering to him and he tends to you along the way. if you were to run him bath water, he invites you in and you’ll bath each other

“-just like that,” madara grunted, holding your hip, his other hand exploring all over your body. you were grinding your hips, and it mostly only felt good for you, but watching you was enough to keep him hard.

“madara, fuck me harder,” you whined, gasping then laughing in excitement as his hands instructed you to bounce.

“oh baby, rougher please, fuck me like you’re mad at me,” you panted. your lustful words were enough to make him give in.

madara helped you as you continued to bounce, this time, he made sure you felt every inch, moaning louder every time you took all of him. leaning up, he took your nipple in his mouth. your hands tangled in his messy hair, as you held him closer.

“you’re going to make me cum,” you cried to him.

“cum all over me,” he groaned, going back to sucking your breast.

“yesyesyesyesyes, i’m cummimg, i’m cumming,” you cried out, but he pulled you close, kissing your lips and muffling the lucid noises.

you continued to moan, slowly grinding your hips, as he slapped your ass, squeezing it. his seed squirted all over your walls and you didn’t pull him out like usual, just continuing to grind your hips. once you were satisfied and stopped, he pulled himself out, wrapping his arms around your body.

“the others probably heard us, we were so loud,” you shook your head in embarrassment.

“i doubt it, we were louder last time,” he sighed, thinking of last time he came home from a mission and the two of you went at it for hours.

meanwhile, outside of his home, a few clansmen passed the house, all having horrified expressions.

“lord madara is a very passionate man,” one of the young shinobi said, their face crimson.

“we’ll have an heir in no time with those two,” izuna laughed, turning to leave.

♡︎ itachi uchiha

— 7. 5 inches and is on the girthier side

— low airy moans and sweet words

— missionary so he can see your pretty face or riding him, while he hugs you closely

— this man is an eater and a master with his fingers

— he could lick on your beautiful pussy all night, your cum coating his fingers and he would be content

— he doesn't ask for oral but is fine with it if you initiate

— he is incredibly gentle with you, treating you as if you are fragile and could easily break at the slightest touch

— as his health is declining, sex doesn't happen as much as it used to, but when he has the courage and strength, he wants to make sure it is slow and precious, making the night rememberable for both of you

— the aftercare king, you won't have to lift a finger, he will take care of you and everything else

“i’m cumming,” you moaned lowly, your leg lifted onto itachi’s shoulder. he had been at it for almost an hour now. you were past your third orgasm and didn't understand how his tongue had the strength to keep going.

“you’re so sweet, angel,” he complimented, kissing your inner thighs, as your body twitched. as the reaction wore off, he lowered his head, ready to eat some more, but you shook your head, pulling him onto the bed.

“i’m ready for more,” you said, as he kissed your lips. falling backward into the pillows, you watched as he took off his clothing.

“i love you, angel,” he said, kissing your collarbone.

“i love you too,” you cooed, as he kissed your lips next.

pushing his cock into your cunt, you both moaned, before he moved his head to start kissing your neck.

“i don’t want to make love tonight,” you said, catching him off guard.

“i want you to fuck me like you’re mad at me, just this once, a little rougher,” you encouraged, as he hesitantly nodded.

“if it hurts we’ll stop immediately,” he said, as you nodded, biting your lip.

planting his hands on the sides of your head, he began thrusting. your voice getting louder, as you moaned. the bed frame hitting the wall repeatedly. he was thankful that you lived in the small cottage a good distance from anyone so that no one could hear the noises you were letting out.

“do you like that, angel?” he asked, smirking as you nodded, before begging for more.

placing a hand around your throat, he lightly squeezed, as he spread your legs more with his free hand. you could feel your cunt stretching more and more, making room for every inch he had to give and you loved every minute of it.

“are you going to cum for me, princess?”

“yesyesyes, please make me cum on your cock,” you moaned to him, as he continued thrusting, his hair covering his face.

“it feels so good,” you continued, hungrily grinding your hips.

“fuck,” Itachi hissed, grabbing your hips. he was cumming hard.

“i feel all of it, inside of me,” you giggled, grinding your hips more before you came.

“i don't think i’ve ever came that fast before,” he admitted, burying his face in your breast, taking in your scent.

“perhaps we can do it like that more often,” you suggested.

“perhaps, but we’ll have to come up with a safe word,” he offered. he was always thinking of your wellbeing.

“oh itachi”

♡︎ indra ōtsutsuki

— he’s a big dick meanie having about 9 inches

— he is a dirty talker, calling you everything under the sun but a child of god

— he’s a misogynistic and it will show how he talks to you

— doggystyle! he loves backshots so he can push your face further down, spanking your ass until it’s sore

— lightly slapping your face, holding your nose as he fucks your mouth

— he doesn’t really like you, but you’re his wife, meaning that you are meant to be used by him any way that he sees fit, right?

— he is rough, tossing you around like you are nothing but his personal doll

— he isn’t into aftercare, if anything, it is you who should be offering to care for him because it is your role as his wife to cater to him

“lord indra,” you called out, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, as you stood outside his bedroom.

“what is it?” he asked coldly, he sat legs crossed, obviously trying to meditate.

“i wanted to…i wanted to ask if you if-

“spit it out woman,” he scolded.

“i wanted to ask if you could fuck me,” you said, clenching your thighs together. he hadn’t touched you in weeks, despite you being on your best behavior.

“you really are a whore, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“yes, my lord,” you nodded, as he finally looked at you. your kimono was slightly open, nothing underneath.

“come here,” he tilted his head at you.

hastily you rushed over, falling to your knees, as he stood up. it took all of your willpower to not reach and touch yourself. he looked at you with disgust, but a hint of interest.

“you left your room dressed this way, what if someone else saw you? but you want another man to see your body, don't you?” he roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“no, my lord, i only want you,” you moaned.

“right, to fuck you?”

“yes, my lord, i want you to fuck me like you're mad at me,” you plead, as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. he didn't say anything, pulling his hand back, before slapping your cheek.

“you slut, you interrupted me to satisfy your sexual urges, i'll make sure to fuck you so hard, you’ll think twice about asking again,” he said, as you nodded.

“please punish me,” you begged, nearly moaning as he tore your kimono open. slapping your breast a few times, he opened his kimono, pumping his pink cock.

“open your mouth, bitch,” he said, thrusting into your warm mouth. humming, he grabbed a handful of your hair.

reaching down to rub your clit, you gasp as he yanked your head backward, slapping your cheek.

“did i say you could touch your pussy?” he said, watching as you quickly moved your hands back up, caressing his abdomen and sides, as he went back to fucking your throat.

you were perfect, taking his length like you were supposed to. he had trained you amazingly, from an inexperienced virgin to a slutty housewife, but he would never tell you that. you didn't need to know that you were doing a good job, it would only go to your head.

instead like always, he pulled out of your mouth, grunting a few times as his cum spilled all over your breast.

“thank you, my lord, it tasted so good,” you praised him, before turning around, putting your face against the floor, your ass in the air. sending a slap to your ass, you winced.

“you have a lot of nerve, you stupid whore, bothering me, i should fuck you until you can't walk,” he frowned, slapping your ass again, then again, and again. the pain mixed with pleasure only made your pussy more wet.

pushing his cock into your wet hole, his hands immediately went to your waist. you moaned, lifting your head, but he slapped your ass, pushing your face back onto the floor.

“your pussy is so wet and tight for me, all mine, only mine if you ever cheat on me, i’ll kill them, all of them, you wait until i’m ready to fuck this little cunt, i don't care how long you have to wait,” he said, thrusting in and out of your sweet pussy.

“y-yes, my lord, only yours,” you struggled to speak, squeezing your kimono. as he sped up his pace, you began pulling away from him, but he held you close, as he kept fucking into you.

“stop running, you wanted this, so take it, bitch,” he ordered.

“it's too much,” you whined.

“you interrupted me about getting fucked and now it's too much, it's too late for all of that,” he said, as you moaned loudly.

“oh, kami, i’m cumming,” you cried, clenching around him, as your body jerked at the sensation.

you were hopeful that he would finally cum inside. you had been married for almost two years with still no heir. asuma told you he has overheard indra tell their father it was because neither of you was ready for it.

pulling out, he pumped himself, grunting as the semen sprayed all over your ass and lower back. pushing away the nerve-wracking voice in your mind, whining about how he had yet to cum in you, you sat on the back of your legs facing him.

“thank you, lord Indra, you’ve been very generous to me,” you bowed, going to stand, when your legs gave out. before you could hit the floor, his hand guilelessly went to your waist, catching you.

“sorry,” you nervously laughed.

“you can stay tonight,” he said, his face showing no emotions.

“really?” you smiled, excited.

“i need a bath, and you do too, so crawl,” he said, watching as you nodded, actually crawling to the bathroom.

he could forget at times how much he secretly enjoyed having a dumb slutty wife.

♡︎ obito uchiha

— 8 inch loverboy

— a whimpering mess, he is touch starved and now that he has someone who loves him as much as he loves them, he easily becomes a mess

— this man is a freak, he is doing any and everything, as long as he gets to do it with you

— loves early morning blowjobs, tasting your pretty pussy, mutual masturbation, he just wants to touch and be touched by you

— he is versatile, sometimes he is gentle, sometimes he is manhandling your body

— he loves foreplay and is always willing to try new things, you want to try anal, he will make sure the prep is perfect, you want to roleplay? he’ll even dress up as whatever if you ask

— he never thought aftercare was important until he got with you and now he caters to you

— behind the villain is a soft boi who just wants to love you and treat you like the queen you are

“you scared me,” you jumped, noticing obito. he still wasn’t used to you living with him and oftentimes appeared without making his presence known.

“sorry, love,” he said, taking off his cloak, watching as you approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“how was your day?”

“i accomplished a few things, you?”

“boring and lonely,” you pouted, as he turned to face you, his hand going down to cup your ass.

“maybe i can help fix that, now that i’m here?” he proposed.

“please do”

“how can i help with this boredom and loneliness?”

“fuck me”

“is that all?”

“fuck me like you're mad at me,” you tried biting back your smile, as you stared into his dark eyes.

“anything for you,” easily tearing off your nightgown, his hands explored your body. perfect, everything about it was perfect. no one could make his cock as painfully hard as you.

lifting you into his arms, your legs going around his waist instantaneously. pumping himself a few times, he aligned with your entrance, before letting your cunt pull him in deeper. throwing your head back, you held him close as he kissed along your neck.

“you ready, baby?” he asked, smirking as you nodded.

“yes,” you moaned breathlessly.

without another word, with a firm hold on your thighs, began thrusting into you. your eyes rolled back as he fucked you as if you were nothing but a whore to him. nodding your head, you opened your mouth, tongue out, letting obito spit into your mouth.

“just like that, i love it,” you cried, before smashing your lips into his own.

“you're so tight baby, you're squeezing me,” he whimpered, as you dragged your tongue along his jaw.

“cum inside of me, as many times as you want,” you moaned, your voice getting louder as he sped up.

“fuck yeah,” you laughed, throwing your head back, as he slapped your ass.

“i’m about to cum,” he told you.

“wait for me, we'll go together,” you cried, placing wet kisses along his shoulder, as you both moaned, drunk with horniness.

“right there, i’m cumming,” you whined and finally he released, filling you up.

“hm, so good,” you exhaled, feeling almost refreshed.

“i didn't hurt you, did i baby?” he asked, worriedly.

“no, you were amazing,” you kissed his lips, as his cock fell out of your creamy pussy.

“good,” he said, feeling better after having your reassurance.

“obito”

“yes baby?”

“take me to bed,” you whispered, your eyes burning with lust.

“yes, my love”

♡︎ sasuke uchiha

— 8 inches, i don't make the rules, he's tall, slender, and quiet, meaning it’s heavy

— he's unsurprisingly quiet, but small whimpers and groans will escape his mouth sometime

— he has your legs folded like a pretzel, in the mating press, he has to restore his clan after all

— keeps his shirt on because he's self-conscious, but likes it when you touch him

— likes sucking your breast while he rubs your clit or you jerk him off while kissing him, but he isn't into oral

— incredibly sweet and gentle, while showing his strength

— he knows his redemption won't happen overnight and being more loving to you than before is very important to him

— he isn't the best at aftercare, but with your words of encouragement and instructions, he will get better

“i’ve missed you,” he said lowly, standing in the doorway, he had come home just as you had gotten out of the shower. the fluffy towel still around your body.

“i’ve missed you too,” you smiled. he had been trying so hard to communicate more.

slowly, he approaches you, swiftly lifting you with his arm. his hand resting under your ass, while you held onto his shoulders, peppering his face with kisses. he was still as strong as ever.

“want to know what else i’ve missed since you’ve been away?” you smirked as he nodded.

“your big cock, i miss you fucking me like a slut, do you miss that?”

“yes,” he whispered, his breathing getting heavier.

“are you too tired tonight? i need you so badly, i want to fuck me like you’re mad at me,” you bit your lip. your pussy was already leaking.

“never,” he said and before you could speak again, you were already being gently placed on the bed.

opening your towel, sasuke straddled your lap, taking his cloak off, revealing the gray shirt underneath. leaning down, he lapped his tongue over your nipple. using his hand to pinch the other. reaching down, you unbuttoned his pants, but when you reached for his shirt, he reached for your hand.

“no”

“it’s okay, you’re with me,” you encouraged him, as he hesitantly nodded. unbuttoning his shirt, you opened it but left it on.

taking out his cock, your walls clenched at the heaviness of it. the girth, the length, the visible veins, as he stroked himself. the precum already leaking out. once hard enough, his thumb went to your clit, rubbing a little, before he pushed himself into your wet tight hole.

“yes baby, just like that,” you moaned, as he lifted your legs, crossing them, before pushing himself all the way in.

“so beautiful,” he mumbled.

“you’re making me so wet, keeping going, you’re fucking me so good,” you whined to him, reaching to touch his toned abdomen.

you were already creaming all over him, as he kept going in and out. he was thankful that your eyes were shut because you couldn't see him place the kisses along your feet and ankles. he was disappointed in himself, the fact that it took all this time, for him to finally cherish you and now he couldn't get enough of you.

“ah, sasuke, i’m so close,” you said, your legs shaking, as he held them folded together.

your walls repeatedly clenched around him, as he let out a series of uneven grunts. he was close and he didn’t even know if you wanted him cumming inside. shaking under him, you began to unravel, coating his cock with your juices.

“shit,” he hissed, about to pull out, when you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist.

“cum inside,” you moaned, biting your lip, as he filled you up.

with every drop of his seed released, your legs fell, and you smiled tiredly batting your lashes at him. pulling him onto the bed, you kissed as if you'd never see each other again.

“lord seventh has to stop sending you on so many missions, this house is so lonely without you,” you pouted, playing with the ends of his hair.

“maybe…maybe having a child around could keep you some company, until i am home?” he struggled to say, his face burning in embarrassment.

“you want a baby?”

“with you,” he added on, a small nod.

“then we have to get really busy-

“we can start tonight,” he interrupted, motioning for you to sit on his lap. you were in for a long night.

[superbatsbison]

thinking of poly superbat x male reader

you and bruce are an established couple

ofc he eventually reveals the fact that he's batman to you

it gets to a point. especially since you're living together

afterward, you become more involved in both bruce and batman's life

because of this, occasionally, you run into some of the other members of the justice league

mainly clark

sorry, i mean superman

he's always hanging around the manor

going over cases with bruce

sometimes coming back with him after particularly grueling missions

and who are you to turn away a handsome face?

who said that 👀

at first clark is surprised that bruce has such a kind boyfriend

or any boyfriend at all really

he didn't peg bruce as being emotionally available. or into men....

ANYWAY

he obviously doesn't need help patching up like bruce does

but often times his mind wanders...

thinking about what he could do differently

What would happen if things went wrong.

soon, he finds himself zoning out in the batcave

and- oh? you're sitting by him

your soft gaze and strong hand rubbing his back helps to calm his racing thoughts

he finds it easy opening up to you

you sit and listen to his worries. giving your input when you think he's running circles in his mind

meanwhile, bruce is across the cave watching you two

he adores you for your big heart and caring nature

watching you comfort his closest friend makes him feel warm inside

he also can't help the passing thought that you two look good side by side

wait what....

maybe he should call it a night

but the pattern continues

you and bruce continue to grow closer to clark

often making him a topic of your conversation

and poor clark

clark feels terrible for the feelings he's developing for you both

i mean you're a couple for god's sake!

a very kind....generous....attractive couple....

is he a bad friend?

meanwhile, in gotham, you're asking yourself if you're a bad boyfriend

you feel like the worst partner ever

you love bruce so much

and yet you've been thinking about clark almost just as often

oh, what would bruce think if he knew.

pan to bruce, who's already clocked onto what's going on LMFAO

i mean, he's not the world's greatest detective for nothing

clearly, he can see clark and his boyfriend are developing something

and he should be angry. right?

hurt at the least?

but all he can manage to feel is endeared

he thinks about clark joining your relationship

treating clark the way he treats you

clark... treating you the way, bruce... treats you

oh my god he's bricked

flash forward to you two laying in bed together

😏

in the silence of the peaceful moment, him blurting out, "honey I think we have feelings for clark"

you shooting upright off his chest

after the initial panic fades you both finally talk it out

speaking of talking it out, poor clark is left to relay his miseries to lois

when he gets done describing all the events of the past couple of months, she starts to laugh

clark: what? 🥺

lois: they're totally trying to say they like your vibe

this gives him hope that he's not making things up

soon you three are back in the cave

except the energy tonight isn't solemn like usual

it's charged

you and clark are in your usual spots side by side

bruce in his chair with his mask and gloves off

eventually, your conversation with clark fades, and you're left looking into each other's eyes

you both lean in for a kiss

after a few moments, clark remembers himself and pulls away to look at bruce

his eyes are wide as he expects bruce to unleash his wrath

but instead, he simply stands and walks over to the pair of you

he sits behind you with a hand around your waist

his thumb rubbing up and down on your stomach

he reaches the other out and puts it on the back of clark's neck

using his leverage, he pulls clark into a kiss

they're both so much taller than you

they're practically kissing over your head

not that you're complaining

it's the perfect angle to plant your own little kisses underneath their jaws

there in your own little cuddle pile, you all confess to each other

clark is over the moon to have the affection of you both

he quickly finds a home in your dynamic

now, instead of having weekly post mission meet-ups in the cave, you all decompress in bruce's comically large bed

[prettymfwrites]

𝑼𝒏𝒘𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒔

*＊✿❀　 ❀✿＊*

Ellie x Vi x Female Reader

Summary: Bringing your girlfriends, Ellie and Vi, home for the holidays was already nerve-wracking. But with your conservative parents and the pressure of keeping your relationship a secret, things get complicated. Between sneaky kisses, whispered confessions, and a family confrontation, this Christmas will test your love like never before.

---

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Ellie grumbled, leaning against the kitchen counter, her tattooed arm flexing as she crossed her arms. Her knife spun lazily in her hand, a nervous habit.

You looked up from where you were attempting to fold laundry, already flustered. “Ellie, we’ve talked about this. It’s just a few days, and then we’re back home. My parents have been asking me to visit forever.”

Vi smirked from the couch, her feet up on the coffee table. “Sounds like someone’s scared of a little holiday cheer.”

Ellie glared at her. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like the idea of sneaking around. It’s weird.”

“It’s not sneaking,” you said, sitting down beside Vi and tugging on her hoodie. “It’s… being strategic.”

“Strategic,” Ellie repeated, unimpressed. “So, your parents don’t know about us at all?”

“They know I’m bringing two ‘close friends,’” you said, making air quotes. “I just haven’t told them we’re, you know…”

“Sleeping together?” Vi supplied, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed. “Dating. Together. In love.”

Ellie snorted. “Yeah, this is gonna go great.”

Vi reached over to take your hand, her thumb brushing your knuckles. “Relax, babe. We’ll get through it. Worst case, Ellie makes some smartass remark, and we get kicked out before dessert.”

Ellie grinned. “That’s best-case scenario.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is my family we’re talking about. Can you at least try to behave?”

Vi leaned in, her voice dropping into a low, teasing tone. “I’ll behave if you promise to make it up to us later.”

Her breath was warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Ellie, noticing your reaction, smirked and joined Vi, standing behind you to press a gentle kiss to your neck.

“You owe us big time,” Ellie murmured, her lips grazing your skin.

“I promise,” you whispered, your heart racing as Vi pulled you closer, her hand sliding up your thigh.

---

The drive to your parents’ house was uneventful, aside from Ellie’s relentless teasing about the amount of luggage Vi brought.

“Do you really need three bags for four days?” Ellie asked, twisting in her seat to poke at Vi’s duffel.

“It’s called being prepared,” Vi shot back, her voice laced with mock superiority. “Not all of us can live out of a backpack, Ellie.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can you two try not to kill each other before we get there?”

When you finally arrived, your mom was waiting at the door, a bright smile on her face. “Y/N! You’re here!”

She enveloped you in a tight hug before turning to Ellie and Vi. “And these must be your friends!”

Vi offered her most charming smile and a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

Ellie, less polished but equally endearing, gave a small wave. “Hi. Thanks for having us.”

Your dad appeared in the doorway, eyeing Ellie’s tattoos and Vi’s undercut with thinly veiled suspicion. “Welcome. Hope you’re ready for some holiday fun.”

You exchanged a nervous glance with your girlfriends before stepping inside, bracing yourself for what was to come.

---

The first night was awkward. Your mom asked endless questions about Ellie and Vi’s “friendship,” while your dad seemed more interested in grilling them about their jobs.

“So, Ellie,” your dad began, his tone overly casual. “What do you do?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, I’m a musician. I write songs and play guitar.”

Your mom’s smile faltered. “Oh, how… creative.”

“And what about you, Vi?” your dad asked, turning his attention to her.

“I work security,” Vi replied easily. “Helps pay the bills.”

Your dad nodded approvingly. “Good, honest work.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “And music isn’t?”

Later, as you, Ellie, and Vi settled into the basement where you’d been assigned to sleep, the tension finally broke.

“Your dad hates me,” Ellie said, flopping onto the pull-out couch.

“He doesn’t hate you,” you said, sitting beside her.

“He definitely doesn’t love her,” Vi quipped, earning a glare from Ellie.

You sighed, pulling them both close. “Can we just get through this without fighting? Please?”

Ellie’s hand found your waist, her fingers tracing lazy circles. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”

Vi leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ll behave. Promise.”

---

By the third day, the strain of keeping your relationship a secret was starting to show. Ellie was snappier than usual, Vi was restless, and you were constantly on edge.

The breaking point came during a family trivia game on Christmas Eve. Abby, your younger sister and the only one who knew the truth, decided to stir the pot.

“So, Ellie,” she said with a mischievous grin. “How long have you and Vi been dating Y/N?”

Your mom froze mid-sip of her cocoa. Your dad’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Ellie shot you a panicked look, and Vi sighed, clearly over the charade. “Six months. Give or take.”

“Excuse me?” your mom said, her voice rising an octave.

You stood quickly, holding up your hands. “Okay, yes. I’m dating Ellie and Vi. Both of them. At the same time.”

The silence was deafening. Finally, Abby smirked and said, “Well, this just got interesting.”

---

The fallout wasn’t as bad as you’d feared. After some initial shock and a few tense conversations, your parents began to accept the situation.

“how is that- you know what, I just want you to be happy,” your mom said tearfully, hugging you on Christmas morning.

Ellie and Vi, who’d been lurking in the background, joined you on the couch.

“Next year,” Vi said with a smirk, “we’re spending the holidays at our place.”

Ellie nodded. “With no secrets.”

You smiled, leaning into them both. “Deal.”

As the snow fell softly outside, you knew this would be a Christmas you’d never forget.

---

𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑷𝒀 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑰𝑫𝑨𝒀𝑺 ❤

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

reader working as a part of the crew and her and IV thinking they are sneaky with their "hidden" relationship by sneaking around each other before and after the shows with kisses and stuff but in end everyone already knows and just makes them think they are doing a good job. I just need Ivy fluff 🥺

Not a secret

It wasn’t that you had a genuine reason to sneak around. There were no rules that band team members to mingle with each other. It just… it all felt so new. Too new. And being in that little bubble felt more secure even if you wanted to scream all about it. You were just finishing sorting out iii’s gear when you felt two arms sneaking around your middle.

“Hey”, Ivy muttered, pulling you closer into his chest. His lips leaving soft kisses against your neck. “Hi”, you mused back, letting your body melt against his. His fingers softly turned your head as he pressed his lips against yours. “Ivy”, you muttered in warning, pulling back.

“Quick one”, he whispered, leaning in once again. “Hands off”, you tapped your palm against his chest, stepping away from him only for Ivy to grab your hips as he pulled you closer to him, caging you against the wall. “You like it”, he smirked, letting his fingers trace your jaw. “Yes, but not here”, you pointed out, letting yourself glance around the corridor.

“You didn’t come to see me all day”, Ivy shook his head. And you haven’t. The preparation for the concert tonight had been chaotic, to say the least. You had felt your phone vibrating in your backpack but you simply haven’t had the time to check it. “I had to help out iii”, you shrugged, letting your arms fall over Ivy’s shoulders. “Don’t like the sound of that”, he shook his head, “will have Billy switching with you”. You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Cause that’s not sus at all”. Ivy shrugged, “No just a switch to test your strength”. “Mhm…”, you hummed shaking your head.

“You smell so nice”, Ivy muttered again your shoulders, “Ivy…”, you warned him once more yet your fingers moved to run over his neck, softly scratching his skin. “Let me breathe you in”, he grumbled, going all dog sniffing mode similar to what Cinnamon his lab did every time you came back home. “You’re insane”, you giggled, “You better be sleeping in my bed tonight”, he muttered looking back up at you. “You know that I'm sharing with the girls it would be so weird”, you shook your head. “I can’t sleep when you’re not in my arms”, he whined, snuggling up against your shoulder.

“I can…”, but you didn’t get to finish as the sound of the side door opening filled the hallway. You quickly ducked behind the boxes, Ivy leaning against the crates as if he was just randomly chilling in the middle of the hallway. “Another sound check in 10, man”, ii walked straight past, chuckling to himself. “Yeah, on my way now”, Ivy cleared his throat. “Hair is a bit messy”, iii pulled at Iv’s hair. “Yn, you could do better than that, love”, your body froze as you watched him slowly leaning over the box. II’s laughter filled the hallway. Iii slowly waved at you before tapping iv on his chest and walking away. “The fuck just happened”, you whispered. “I think they know”, iv muttered, sinking to sit beside you. “But we were so…”, the sound of more footsteps made you both fall silent again. “Hey, lovebirds”, Vessel shot you both a wink as he walked past. “Yeah, they know…”, you sighed. “So you are sleeping in my bed tonight right?”, Ivy asked, making you shove at his shoulder lightly.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

★ synopsis: over one summer, a whirlwind romance creates an obvious choice: to stay in the life she's always known or follow sylus into the unknown, chasing love and freedom.

★ character: sylus

★ cw: first-person POV, sort of present day au? pretty fluffy, some implications but nothing obvious, soft sylus, may have spelling errors (i wrote this at 2 am)

★ word count: 1.3k

★ a/n: this is super short and not really meant as an intense read. just some poetic fluff about sylus (lord knows we need more sweet reads of him *sob*)

I remember the first time I saw him.

He was so… different from everyone around. The way he acted, the way he held himself, the devious smirk that always graced his devilishly handsome face. He had this aura that was off, but in this perfectly, sickeningly good way. He was something this dull town never had.

He came in once to my bakery, smiling and talking to me as if he had known me forever.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” That was different, no one spoke to each other like that around here. Anyone in their right mind would be creeped out, yet I enjoyed every second; every word that came out of his mouth spoke with his deep, velvet voice. I loved the difference, I loved the attention he gave me. Constant indulging in the feeling his presence brought on.

Introducing himself as Sylus, I said his name thousands of times in my head.

The look he gave me when he learned my name was engraved in my mind for centuries. His hard eyes softened, repeating every syllable as if it was candy on his tongue. Of my name.

Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.

After that, he would visit at least once a day, if not a few times. He’d lean over my counter, propping himself up on one of his arms. He always rolled his sleeves up, and buttoned his shirt to his lower chest, showing enough of his perfect skin that I always resisted to touch.

“Red is your color.” I had told him this after he wore this delicious, wine red top. It complimented everything on him, like a rose in the snow.

“Everything is your color.” He leaned towards me, holding his face in his hand.

“Why do you say that?” I started serving a customer, and I could feel his eyes on me.

“Well,” He started, “Your personality is very warm, like yellow, orange, and red.”

I glanced at him, “Have a good evening!” I bid the lady I served goodbye.

“And your looks are very cool, blues and purples fit you best.”

Turning away from him, adjusting things on my shelves, I asked, “What about green?”

“What about green?” He repeated.

“You didn’t mention green. Does green fit me?”

He smirked, “I told you every color fits you. So green would too. I’m sorry I didn’t mention every shade in the rainbow.”

I turned back to him, and he had his head resting in his arms, staring at me with his usual smug look. Walking up to him, I ran a hand through his hair, “Y’know, green actually takes up most of the color spectrum. It has a countless number of shades.”

“Really?”

“Mm,” I gave him one of his favorite pastries I made, “it's evolutionary. Humans are omnivores, so our eyes help us differentiate between shades of green to help us find plants to eat and avoid, but it can help us find prey animals that are seeking specific kinds of plants.”

“You’re truly fascinating, sweetie. You and all your shades of green.”

“As are you, Sylus.”

As are you.

Sylus was on a trip here for the summer. When I asked him why?

"To find someone like you."

I thought of him as borrowing my heart, when I knew he wouldn’t return it when he left at the end of the summer. When the leaves turned yellow, red and orange, just as he described my personality, he’d take my heart with him back to his home.

I felt something with him, a spark, a waterfall of passion. Something I had never felt in this city before.

There were the ruins, a place where all the young civilians would go to party into the early mornings. Sylus convinced me to go with him once.

“I want the experience of being here.” He had stated matter of factly, yet I knew the tall man was just finding an excuse to be with me a while longer.

I rolled my eyes, “That’s not much of an experience, being around a bunch of sweaty drunks.”

Oh but it was. To travel back to that night, where we had danced together, our cheeks flushed with red wine, or bodies pressed into one.

He took me back to the bakery, and kissed me against the old brick walls. Him in his red shirt, buttoned down and sleeves up, his hair a mess, but still shining in the illumination of the moon and street lights.

From there, something shifted.

I’d show him all my secret spots, just to fall into a field together, tangled in each other's limbs. He’d kiss me like I was his world, and nothing else existed; and with him, nothing else did exist.

I tried to teach him how to bake, how to knead dough, how to remember measurements without a recipe. Sylus would get flour in his hair, on his cheeks, his nose, his shirt and his pants (all on purpose, courtesy of me).

"We have to match.” He’d say, before taking his flour covered hands and taking my face in them, rubbing his dusty nose on mine, rubbing our cheeks together. I giggled and smacked his chest with a towel, before wiping his and my face off.

There was the night where I wore a new dress; an emerald green sundress that matched the grassy hills of the city in the night. He took one look at me, his red eyes burning with love and desire, and as I took a step forward his hands were all over. Dinner was scrapped, and I spent the night under him tangled in the sheets, one with love.

After, cuddled together, a sweaty beautiful mess, he adjusted his bare chest against mine. Placing his hand on my hip, drawing shapes with his finger, he whispered to me as I was about to fall asleep,

“So many shades of green, and I was lucky enough to find you.”

“I love you, Sylus.” I mumbled through reality and my dreams.

He smiled against my lips, “I love you too.”

As they say, time flies when you’re having fun. Eventually, the end of summer came around.

I would have to say goodbye. Say goodbye to Sylus, say goodbye to everything.

No more grand entrances into my work, messing with the collar of his red billowy shirt. No more watching his bare back as he’d stretch in the morning, smirking back at me as he’d trace his fingers over marks on his neck and chest. Life would go back to routine, everything in this town staying quiet and still as it once was. Before I knew him.

The day before he had to leave, he swung open the door to my bakery, a wild look in his eyes.

“Come with me.” He said, stern. The look on his face told me I wasn’t getting much of a choice. I wasn’t sure I wanted one.

I raised a brow, “What?”

He walked behind the counter, one hand grabbing my waist, the other going through my hair.

“Come back with me. Stay with me. You can open a bakery there, I’ll help. Everything will be the same. You said it yourself, you wanted out of here, come with me.” His usual put together look was coming undone, his lips pulled tightly together as a silent plea.

He could make it happen, the man had more money than I could ever imagine. Going with him could make all my dreams come true; getting out of this monotonous town, living comfortably, being…happy.

I shook my head, almost trying to convince myself not to listen, “Sylus, you’re not thinking about this.” Hypocritical, I’m not sure I was either.

His brows furrowed, “I have. That's all I’ve done. Now, sweetie, say yes.”

I thought about all the shades of green.

…

“Yes.”

(divider by cafekitsune)

[fictionalsimp09]

Mistletoe Kiss

Jegumas Day 21 - @noblehouseofgay - 344 words

“Put us all out of our misery and just kiss him,” Peter sighs as he sips from his plastic cup.

“No, no and no,” Sirius replies. “Don’t you dare kiss my baby brother. But also, please put us out of our misery. Your pining is pathetic, Prongs.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” he quips.

“Hey! At least me and Moony are together now.”

“Just go talk to him,” Remus adds. “We all know he likes you too.”

“Fine,” James says, downing the rest of his firewhisky and struts towards the younger Black, standing on the opposite end of the Gryffindor common room looking bored out of his mind while his loved-up friends are preoccupied with their partners. “Hey, Reggie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It makes you flustered, and you’re cute when you blush.”

“Call me cute again and you’ll be spending the rest of the term in the hospital wing.”

James chuckles. “You wouldn’t dare hurt me.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Because you like me.”

“I can’t stand you.”

“We both know that’s not strictly true.” James decides to be brave, tucking some of Reg’s hair behind his ear, letting his fingers linger a little longer than necessary. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

“Just how much have you had to drink, Potter?”

“Not much.”

“Lightweight,” he mutters.

“No, I’m just drunk on love.”

“Piss off, Potter,” Regulus snaps. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

“It isn’t a joke.” Just then, movement above their heads draws their attention, both of them looking up at the same time. Mistletoe. “I promise you this isn’t a joke.”

James looks into Regulus’ grey eyes, trying to convey just how much he wants him with a single look. And it works. Regulus leans forward, placing a brief kiss to his lips. When James doesn’t pull away, the kiss deepens, and it’s more magical than any spell he could ever cast. In this moment, the world fades away until it’s just them. It’s perfect. Regulus is perfect. They are perfect for each other.

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕬NGEL BABY

Katseye x fem!reader

summary: katseye’s eldest can’t seem to get enough of her bandmates, who gave them the permission to be so cute? here’s a compilation of moments y/n has had with every individual member of Katseye, handpicked by eyekons <3

warnings: none, just fluffy moments

Y/N ABSOLUTELY BEING LOVE DRUNK ON THE KATZ (FT. YOONCHAE AS A CO-PARENT)

Sophia Laforteza: On an interview with Billboard playing “How well do you know your bandmates?”, Y/N and Sophia were sat next to each other.

The interview was going smoothly—at least, that’s how it seemed at first. The band had gathered in a chic, minimalist room for the Billboard video. But it didn’t take long for the interviewer’s eyes to flicker between Y/N and Sophia, both of them sitting a little too close, Y/N’s knee brushing Sophia’s. It wasn’t unusual for them to be near each other, but today, something felt different.

Y/N had been unusually clingy all day. They kept stealing glances at Sophia, leaning in just a little too much when speaking, and the way they kept hovering around her made it obvious: they were really attached today. The rest of the band noticed it almost immediately, but none of them could resist having a little fun with it.

“So, we’re here with Katseye,” the interviewer began with a bright smile. “It’s great to have you all here. And, of course, the music speaks for itself. But... I have to ask—Y/N, is everything alright? You seem a little... extra close to Sophia today.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard, but tried to play it cool, leaning back in their chair just slightly. “I—I’m fine. Just... you know. Just hanging out. No big deal.”

Sophia, who had been quietly observing her bandmate’s behavior, shot a playful smile at Y/N, the corners of her lips curving up. She knew exactly what was going on but wasn’t about to call them out too loudly—at least not yet. The others laughed at their eldest member being teased for her affectionate nature, unable to resist the urge to poke fun at the woman themselves.

“Oh, it’s definitely a big deal,” Manon said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Y/N’s got a serious attachment to Sophia today. Haven’t seen them this clingy in a while.”

Lara, ever the instigator, chimed in. “It’s like they’re physically connected. It’s honestly impressive. I didn’t know two people could share the same personal space so literally.”

Daniela added with a sly grin, “Yeah, Y/N, are you trying to move in with Sophia and kick poor Yoonchae out? I can already see the ‘sophisticated roommate’ aesthetic forming.”

“More like an ‘and they were roommates’ aesthetic,” Megan chimed, cackling at her own joke.

Y/N, cheeks flushed, glanced down at their hands. “I’m not—! It’s not like that, guys. I’m just... I don’t know. Feeling close to Sophia today, alright? Is that a crime?”

Sophia, who had been trying to stifle a laugh, leaned in with a teasing glint in her eyes. “It’s really fine, guys,” she said to the interviewer, her voice light but carrying a touch of mischief. “Y/N’s just a little extra affectionate today. They’ve got a lot of love to give, I guess.”

The interviewer raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “It’s definitely something we’re noticing,” they replied with a grin. “But, Y/N, is this a regular thing? Or is this just a special day?”

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heat rise in their cheeks. “I mean, can you blame me? I guess Sophia’s looking a little too cute today, I needed to support her.”

“Supportive, huh?” Manon smirked, leaning forward in her chair. “You know, I’ve heard of having each other’s backs, but you’re practically on Sophia’s back at this point.”

Lara let out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re like her human shadow. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you to take a step back and breathe for a second.”

Y/N sighed and rubbed the back of their neck. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m clingy today. But it’s not that bad.”

“That bad?” Daniela teased, crossing her arms. “I mean, we did see you whisper something into Sophia’s ear a minute ago. Was that an emergency cuddle request?”

Sophia, still chuckling at the whole situation, nudged Y/N with her shoulder, a soft but knowing look on her face. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N groaned, their face turning redder by the second. “You guys are the worst. Can we please talk about the album? Or literally anything else? Please.”

The interviewer laughed along with the rest of the band, clearly enjoying the dynamic between the bandmates. “Sure, sure,” they said, still grinning. “But one last question before we move on—Y/N, are you sure there’s not something more going on with you and Sophia? The way you’re sitting so close, it’s starting to look like a rom-com.”

“As if you guys wouldn’t kill to be the co-lead in a rom-com with Sophia.” Y/N protested, but even they couldn’t keep the smile off their face.

Manon shook her head. “Yeah, right. We’ve got the whole thing figured out. Can’t fool us, Y/N.”

The band erupted into laughter, and Y/N, despite being embarrassed, couldn’t help but join in. Sophia nudged them again, a quiet reassurance in her touch, and in that moment, Y/N realized—despite the teasing, the awkwardness, and the jokes—Sophia wasn’t going anywhere. Neither were any of their bandmates.

But even as the conversation shifted, the warmth between Y/N and Sophia didn’t go unnoticed—Sophia and Y/N, best ship?

Manon Bannerman: During Manon’s live when she was trying on different wigs and outfits, Y/N joined in halfway through the live just watching her try differnet things on like a personal modelling show

As Manon tossed her cap aside to fish through her pile of clothes for another hat, Y/N kept her phone company to carry on with the live. Fans could hear Manon make noises here and there as she dug through her closet, but most of them were pretty engaged with the woman reading their comments.

“‘Y/N, what’s your favourite thing about Manon?’ Oh, that’s a very good question,” Y/N announced, looking up to ponder about the question. “There’s so many things I love about her.”

“You’re such a cheeseball, you freak nasty hoe.”

Y/N chuckled at Manon’s remark, glancing between Manon changing and the camera, making sure the Ghanaian singer was kept offscreen as she switched into a new outfit.

“I would say… Manon definitely pulls me out of my comfort zone a lot. She takes me to places to do things I never would’ve done myself if I wasn’t with her,” Y/N chuckled, “I’ve become so much more comfortable being myself with different people on different places thanks to her. She’s really molded me into the person I am today.”

Manon coos, pouting and throwing the older an ‘aww’.

“Yeah, I’m really grateful for Manon, but she can also be a real loud spirit sometimes.” Y/N mumbled through gritted teeth to the camera, leaning forward as if telling the eyekons a secret.

“Hey, way to ruin the moment,” Manon barked, tossing a hoodie straight at her head.

As the older squealed in surprise at the material colliding with her head, it gradually morphed into a stunned gasp at the outfit Manon had put on. Her hands flew to cover her mouth as her eyes widened, the live grew silent for a moment before Manon’s laughter at Y/N’s reaction rung evidently.

“Oh my God, you look absolutely stunning, babe. Get in here right the hell now,” Y/N reached out, her hand grabbing at Manon’s arm to drag the woman into frame.

Manon did a little spin for the camera, pouting and winking as she flaunted her outfit. She had a camo cap on, a skin-tight dollar bill shirt and some low waisted dark blue jorts that showed off her slender figure.

“Face card, lethal. Body, tea. Oh my God, this woman.”

Y/N gasped, a hand over her chest and falling backwards to lie flat on the floor. She crossed her arms, closing her eyes. “I’m actually dead. Dead by being gagged by such a pretty lady.”

Manon’s infectious laughter reverberated off the walls of the room, leaning backwards and away from the camera to drape herself over Y/N in a tight embrace. The two of them a clump on the floor, the fans spent the next two minutes just watching them laugh and cuddle.

“Wait, wait, I want you to do a catwalk.” Y/N perked up.

She repositioned the phone, ushering for Manon to stand at the other side of the room. Holding up three fingers to countdown, Manon began strutting her way towards the camera. Y/N let out wolf whistles, a hand over her mouth to muffle a squeal as she hyped the woman up.

“God is a woman and she’s posing for me,” Y/N teased, “I’m the luckiest woman alive.”

Maybe Y/N and Manon is the best ship in Katseye, who else showers their friend with compliments the way Y/N does?

Daniela Avanzini: [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Dance Practice for 2024 MAMA Awards (Mainly Daniela & Y/N Goofing Off)

Moving with the beat had never been a problem for Y/N, the woman practically had perfect rhythm. It was what made her such a talented producer, she could forge a beat out of anything with just her mouth. But something about this choreography was stumping the eldest member of Katseye, and no matter how many times she’d ask their instructor about it, she still just couldn’t get the hang of it.

Daniela and Megan were in their own little world, already syncing together for the next part of the choreography none of the others had learnt yet.

The camera panned from the main dancers to Y/N, who seemed to be struggling to execute a certain back-bend motion smoothly. Sophia was beside her, picking up tips on how to make her motions more fluid as well. After a couple seconds of footage of them just trying, it cut to Y/N waving a hand and walking off after thanking their instructor.

The camera followed the Katseye member to their water station, where the girl eyed the camera, shaking her head.

“I’m tapped out. I love a challenge, and I’m grateful they gave me the move instead of one of the other girls, but this is taking me out.” She mumbled to the camera, sloshing around a mouthful of water before swallowing it. Sweaty and exposed, Y/N fanned herself. “If you’re watching this after the MAMA performance, please don’t hate on me. I really tried here, Eyekons, I’m just not flexible enough.”

Done with the next section of the choreography, Daniela decided to stroll over to the camera, still trained on Y/N.

She could see why the crew was focusing on her more, she was wearing a wife-beater and some really low waisted gray sweats. It was the gym guy combo most tiktok’s loved thirsting over. Smart PR move to appeal to that audience.

Taken aback by Daniela coming onscreen, Y/N hadn’t anticipated the hug the younger member was about to entrap her in. Nonetheless, her arms were open and she welcomed the Latina into frame. “Oh, Dani, perfect timing. I actually needed to ask you for a quick favour.”

The blonde nodded, “Shoot.”

“I know you’re in the centre for this move, but I wanted to know if there was any tricks I can use to be able to make the transition between me standing and me falling to my knees to bend smoother.” Y/N’s hands rested on her hips, watching the Latina’s expression twitch as she thought of ways to help.

“Okay, wait, show me what you’re doing now.”

The camera backed away, giving the two space before Y/N ran through the moves once. She ended with the move on the floor, sitting before staring back up at Daniela for a reaction.

The Latina clapped, “That was already pretty smooth, I don’t even know how to make it look better than it already does.”

“Dani…” Y/N whined, propping herself up, “Stop being nice and just tell me the truth. That move felt clunkier than an elephant tap dancing.”

Daniela giggled at the older’s joke, leaning against her with an arm over her shoulder. “I can assure you, Y/N, you’re undermining yourself. You look so much better than you think you do.”

Y/N suddenly bent down, picking the Latina up and setting her over her shoulder with her ass in the air, earning a loud shrill scream from Daniela. The camera followed the two, panning from a red Daniela forwards to Y/N, who was carrying her around the room.

“Dani’s too nice for her own good, but if I could just kidnap and have her be mine forever, I would.”

Come on, Daniela wouldn’t let anybody else do that to her, Dann/n truthers where we at?

Lara Raj: [ WEVERSE LIVE ] KICKBACK STUDIO SESSION WITH LARA & Y/N

“No, no, we love Surf Curse. Lara and I have actually been talking about producing a song on the next that’s like an indie rock vibe, but I don’t think we’ve got the go for it yet.” Y/N announced, her focus on the computer in front of her as her hand tinkered with the soundboard. She had an electric guitar in her lap, a pick in her free hand and you could see Lara holding a microphone in the background.

“Yeah, we absolutely love The Backseat Lovers, uh… Wallows, Hotel Ugly—Y/N and I have a designated playlist just for indie rock,” Lara said. “Wait, should we show them the demo we’ve been working on? Like just the chorus or something?”

The older shrugged, glancing over at her phone sitting on the table, the immediate influx of comments urging them to play their song was criminal. Y/N chuckled at the fans’ reaction, “I think they really, really want to hear it.”

Lara nodded, “Then let’s get it.”

Y/N searched for a file among her many saved demos in her folder, clicking on one titled, “Growing Old (the one by the narwhals)”. Lara nodded, flipping through their songbook of lyrics to find the page that was titled the same. It was definitely one of both their favourites, of all the demos they have produced together.

“Okay, guys, so basically I’ve recorded the drums and bass to this song, but I’ll be playing the main tune on my guitar. Lara will be singing it and if you guys like it, we might pitch it to our team to get it on the next comeback.” Y/N said, looking back at the Indian singer, who gave her a thumbs up.

Clicking the space bar on her keyboard, it played.

“I’m growing old… my thoughts are changing, but will you change with me?” Lara’s silky voice rung into the microphone, the only sound in the room over the rough music. Y/N nodded along, fingers working the guitar strings as her eyes watched her bandmate intently. “Oh, will you change with me?”

user01 omg Y/N’s literally in love

user02 Need someone to look at me the way Y/N looks at Lara

user03 IF SOMEONE WROTE THIS FOR ME ID FOLD

user04 they’re stronger than me cuz i’d fall in love

As about thirty seconds of their song played, Y/N had a big smile on her face, bearing her teeth in pride as she clicked for the track to come to a halt.

The moment the song ended, the older set her guitar, nearly tackling the Indian to the floor in a bear hug.

“Oh my God, you’re actually a Godsend,” Y/N squealed, “That song will never ever get old because it’s you singing it to me.”

user05 SHES SO GF FOR THAT??

user06 Why is Y/N so shippable

user07 you can’t convince me lar/n isn’t real

“It’s only ‘cuz you wrote that sick tune. I think with the amount of people loving this right now, there’s a good chance it’ll be on the next album,” Lara nodded towards the positive feedback flooding the comment section.

“Guys, when I’m telling you I’m actually the luckiest woman alive to be able to sit and hear that voice over and over again, I’m not exaggerating.” Y/N squeezed the younger’s shoulder.

No, it is 100% Lar/N. A studio match made in heaven.

Megan Skiendiel: Katseye was gathered around a PR package sent by Olivia Rodrigo to be opened, Megan and Y/N were sat at the back of the group as Sophia and Manon did most of the speeches to thank Olivia.

“Thank you, Olivia, so much for the gifts, we love you and we can’t wait to see you.” Sophia spoke to the camera, “So, onto the unboxing of the package.”

As the girls ripped apart the package and explored the snacks and trinkets in the box, Megan and Y/N were fond of the bag of popcorn that was left in the box. Y/N immediately popped open the bag, letting the younger grab a handful first before she dug into it herself. Megan hummed, feeling the popcorn melt on her tongue with a foreign taste.

When Y/N popped one into her mouth, she immediately scurried to check the bag, her frantic motion catching the girls’ attention.

“Babe, there’s cinnamon in this,” Y/N said, pouncing to her feet to go grab a tissue paper from a staff member. Megan froze, eyes darting between the stunned Katseye members and the cameras. When Y/N came back onscreen, she shielded Megan from the cameras, holding the tissue over the Chinese girl’s mouth so she would spit it out. She then wiped her lips clean, brushing hair away from her face as Megan fixed herself up.

“For reference, Megan’s allergic to cinnamon,” Lara chimed, glancing back at the latter in concern.

The girls turned their full attention back to Megan. “How are you feeling now?”

Megan nodded slowly, her breathing finally returning to normal. “Good. Y/N caught it before I swallowed, so hopefully I don’t die. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Of course,” Y/N insisted, crossing their arms and settling in beside her. “You rest. I’m keeping watch. You’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re okay.”

Megan rolled her eyes but smiled. “Okay, Mom.”

Y/N just shrugged. “Yeah, I just saved your life, so... you better keep that attitude to a minimum, Skiendiel.”

Megan shook her head, but there was no denying the gratitude in her eyes. The bandmates were often playful with each other, but in moments like this, it was clear that they were more than just a group—they were family. And Y/N, in their usual overbearing way, wasn’t going to let anyone slip through the cracks.

Megan sighed theatrically. “Fine, I guess I’ll survive with you hovering over me.”

Sophia chuckled softly, turning back to the PR package they had abandoned earlier. “Well, I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N said, their grin widening. “I’ll make sure Megan doesn’t eat anymore popcorn this time. There’s an epipen right there just in case.”

And with that, they stayed together, a little closer than usual, but with a quiet understanding that, no matter what, they had each other’s backs.

Y/N really babied Megan… #Y/gan anybody?

Jeong Yoonchae: [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Behind the Scenes of Making “Touch” Music Video

The set was bustling with energy. Crew members scurried around, adjusting cameras and lights, while stylists and makeup artists made final touch-ups on each band member. It was the day of Katseye’s highly anticipated music video shoot, and the excitement was palpable. With every moment, the vibe on set grew more intense—until it became clear that two members of the band, in particular, were completely lost in their own little world.

Y/N and Yoonchae had their looks touched up first, leaving the two of them ready and alone next to the set while other members got their looks done.

“I’m so excited for this! It’s like a—like a…!” Yoonchae said, hopping from one foot to the other as she adjusted her outfit. She was trying to find the word for what she was feeling, but her accent made it all the more adorable.

Y/N watched her with an amused expression, smiling at the camera at her excitement. “Dream come true?”

Yoonchae nodded, grabbing Y/N’s arm. “Yes, dream come true! It’s so cool! Look at the lights, the cameras…” She waved her hands dramatically, gesturing toward the crew, and then flopped onto a nearby chair. “Y/N, I always thought music video shoots were more glamorous. But it’s kind of chaotic.”

Y/N chuckled, walking over and sitting down next to her. “Yeah, for all the eyekons watching at home, there’s so many things going on at once here right now. We’re working really hard to give you guys the best video ever.”

Yoonchae looked at them, eyes curved. “Yes!”

Y/N’s smile grew. “You’re right,” they said dramatically. “I have to be the mature one. The one who has everything under control. No falling or tripping allowed.”

“Well,” Yoonchae began with a mischievous grin, “that’s not what I heard last night.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What do you mean by that?”

Yoonchae leaned in, lowering her voice as if telling a juicy secret. “I heard... from Manon...” She paused for dramatic effect. “That you, Y/N, have the worst luck when it comes to... stage outfits.” She grinned even wider.

Y/N groaned, sinking further into the chair, clearly mortified. “Oh, no. Don’t you dare. That was one time.”

But Yoonchae was enjoying this too much. “One time? Wasn’t it, like, three times? Or four?” She pulled out her phone and started to scroll through her pictures, clearly looking for the embarrassing photo evidence. “Wait, I have a picture...”

“Yoonchae,” Y/N whined, slapping a hand to her forehead, “I swear, if you show that picture—”

But it was too late. Yoonchae had found it. She turned the phone toward the camera with a wicked grin on her face. The photo was a candid shot of Y/N from one of their earlier shoots, where she’d tripped over a cable, lost her balance, and ended up on the ground in an ungraceful heap. To make matters worse, she were wearing a sparkling strapless top that seemed to be caught on the edge of the stage, adding to the chaos. Yoonchae was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, while Y/N simply buried her face in her hands.

“Yoonchae!” Y/N exclaimed, half-laughing, half-sighing in defeat. “Why would you do this to me?”

“You look so cute!” Yoonchae protested, still laughing uncontrollably. “It makes me really happy.”

Y/N groaned, her cheeks flushing. “I’ll admit, it was embarrassing, but—”

“You admit?” Yoonchae interrupted, cutting them off. “You looked like a baby deer.” Yoonchae collapsed into her chair, clutching her stomach as she continued to laugh.

Y/N shook her head, clearly trying to maintain their dignity. “You’re so cruel, you know that? You’re lucky you’re the youngest. If I were the youngest, I’d be way more merciless.”

Yoonchae stuck out her tongue, teasing. “That’s because you’re old, and you’ve got to be all serious and responsible.”

Y/N let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head into the camera, pretending to be resigned to her fate. “Alright, fine, I’ll give you that one. But I’m never telling you another embarrassing story again.”

Yoonchae’s eyes widened in mock horror. “You have to!”

Y/N shot her a look, pretending to be stern. “I’m serious, Yoonchae. I’ll tell everybody but you.”

But Yoonchae only pouted, clasping her hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please, please, tell me more! I’m begging you! I’ll be really sad if you don’t!”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back the smile tugging at their lips. “Fine. But only because you said ‘please’.” They paused, thinking for a moment. “Okay, how about the time I accidentally dyed my hair neon green before a concert?”

Yoonchae gasped. “No way! Tell me more!”

Y/N, now fully enjoying the teasing, leaned in closer. “Well, I thought it would be a fun, bold look, but the dye got all over my hands, my clothes, and the stage lights made it look like I had an actual glow-in-the-dark head. It was so embarrassing that I wore a hat for the entire set. Not one person told me I looked ridiculous. Not even you!”

Yoonchae gasped dramatically. “How could I not tell you? I think I need to have a word with our bandmates.”

Best sibling dynamic, hands down.